Tempest Squadron, Part One
by Capernucus
Summary: One the fringe of the galaxy, unlikely and unknown cadets must fight to save their school and their way of life. This entire story could not be submitted to the side, so here's the first seven chapters. Rated M for language and violence. Do n


**PROLOGUE**

Warning sirens echoed throughout the ship. The lights flickered on and off in every station. The inexperienced began to panic, while they gradually realized what was happening. The soldiers and veteran troops understood long before then. They had anticipated this move, because it was the most logical thing that could happen at that point.

The bridge control men frantically worked at their station to analyze the situation. The captain, though, did not need a scientific explanation of what had happened. He knew the instant that his chair shuddered that in a few seconds they would be pulled out of hyperspace. His facial expression did not waver as an enemy fleet appeared in front of him.

"Captain Rugh!" a junior officer yelled from the other side of the bridge. "We're being hailed."

"Identify the source."

"It's the flagship _Judgmental_.Warlord Fiell, sir."

Still, Captain Rugh remained calm. Warlord Fiell's reputation had stretched to every system in the galaxy. There was a rumor that the man was literally insane. Of course, this rumor was started by the most arrogant officers in the Imperial Navy. They did not want to admit that their fleets had been obliterated by a sane man.

"Put him through. Charge up turbolasers and raise shields."

"Y-yes, sir."

Rugh frowned, studying the man. He hated hesitation, especially from junior officers. "Lieutenant Gonoe, I sense indecisiveness in your voice. Is there a problem with the order?"

Gonoe swallowed hard. "No, sir; I was merely . . . taken off guard by the _Judgmental_."

Rugh did not reply. He simply waved an agitated hand and the lieutenant was out of his face. Rugh marched up to the holoprojector in the bridge's left corner nearest the aft exit. A few seconds of waiting impatiently made Rugh begin to sweat. He never liked this Fiell. Actually, he despised him highly. He was also terrified of him; he was terrified of the _Judgmental_.

That's why he owned it too, the captain knew. The _Judgmental_ was a _Super_-class Star Destroyer, one larger and darker than all regular Imperial star destroyers. It looked similar to an arrowhead, with seemingly thousands of weapons of terror scattered along the hull. The most eerie section of the ship was the cross-like extension near the rear of the ship. Like on most star destroyers, that extension housed the bridge and shield generators. The ship was so bloodcurdling that it made even the most brave captains wet their uniform when faced against it.

The most common reason that the ship was such a terror resided in the shield generators. The most obvious flaw in a star destroyer was that its shield generators were exposed to blaster fire. A few skilled and lucky fighter pilots could maneuver their way toward the extension and drop some proton torpedoes on the generators, taking them out with ease. Then even the most lightly armed ship could cause the star destroyer more trouble than they could handle, providing their weapons become inoperable.

Most Super Star Destroyers were overkill, considering their generators were just as vulnerable as other Impstars and less maneuverable. Most ships were used only to strike fear in the enemy. The _Judgmental,_ however, did not have exposed shield generators. They were hidden inside the cross, or so Rugh was told. No one really knew the secrets behind the machine of mass destruction, so everyone that _thought_ they knew something was listened to during strategical meetings and councils of war.

"Rugh!"

"I would appreciate if you would call me _Captain_ Rugh, Warlord Fiell. I believe I have earned it." Rugh refrained from stepping back, as he always did when he saw the man. Saying that it was a repulsive sight was a vast understatement.

Fiell had completely white hair, except in the front where he had gone bald. Each time Rugh saw him, Fiell had lost another row of hair. As usual, his three-inch-long hair was combed back and stuck naturally. A scar traced his head from the edge of his hairline all the way down to bellow his mouth. It was known that a Gamorrean ax hit him, while he was visiting a Hutt crime lord and irritating him so much that the guards were unleashed on him. That was what supposedly made him insane, according to most other respectable officers. The damage had left his eye very colorfully revealed.

"Very well, captain. As you can see, I have been waiting for someone. I can assure you that it is not you I'm seeking. An old nemesis of mine is passing through and I plan on paying her a visit. You ruined my surprise, Rugh. Stick around, and maybe you can learn something."

Rugh kept a mental note to never ride shotgun again. "I have guests on the way. Are they allowed?"

"I'm not interested in seeing the admiral. I suggest you join us, before he leads you down the wrong path." Fiell shook his head. "You should've stuck around, Rugh. It's still not too late, you know."

Rugh blinked, thinking for a moment. "Fiell, you could have brought Admiral Ackbar to his knees and crushed through Drayson's defenses without severe losses, but instead you decided to hunt down that one cursed ship. You know that it was the death of you."

"I'm not dead, as you can see. My _Drugnaught_ was merely destroyed with all hands lost. I can deal with that. It was not as much of a setback as you may think. I managed to upgrade a star destroyer to serve my needs until _this_ was built, simply by not spending the money to provide burial ceremonies for the dead and wasting money to pay for a letter to each and every single one's family."

"You have no heart. That's worse than being dead."

"Which you have told me many times."

Rugh glanced at the fleet's progress. It would be another three minutes before anyone arrived. In that three minutes, his head could be stuffed and hanging on Warlord Fiell's wall. "Warlord Fiell, I'm sorry but I must be going. I have a schedule to maintain. Please lower the gravity-well so I can depart."

If Fiell did so, which was very improbable, that would leave the fleet a little over two-and-a-half minutes before the Immobilizer 418 would be powered up again. That was still not enough time for the fleet to make it past.

"I understand your haste, captain. However, I must decline. Any minute an enemy task force will waltz in here unknowingly and I will destroy them. If I let you pass, there is a slight possibility that I will lose them too."

Rugh nodded apologetically. "Very well, sir. May I ask why you can't catch up to them later, though?"

Rugh had every intention of smashing through Fiell's ship and taking himself to death, as well, but unfortunately—whether Rugh wanted to admit it or not—Warlord Fiell was his superior, his _ally_. The alliance had left Rugh left Rugh in a bad situation. Not only did he answer to the most malicious admirals in the warlord's Navy, but also to the lunatic warlord that killed everyone who opposed him.

"I can't catch up to them later because it is unnecessary and a waste of my precious time. I can't blow this mission so you can go about your business; I paid so much to receive this information. Please try to bare with me."

"What do you expect me to do in the meantime, sit around and witness the murder?"

Fiell smiled devilishly. "Why not? You can come over to my ship, and maybe we can discuss some issues and I can teach you a few tricks. We're having a victory feast in celebration of the destruction of my nemesis's fleet."

"I wouldn't bring out the whiskey just yet. What if you're the one who's destroyed?"

Fiell stared at him blankly, a little confused. He thought of himself being invincible. Fiell the Unconquerable was his self-proclaimed title. He was really cocky, Rugh knew.

"Well?"

Rugh didn't want to admit it, but he was becoming very afraid at this point. He knew of one person that was hanged just for doubting his ability of ruling the Galaxy.

Fiell kept still for a few moments, then a smile came to his face. "I had forgotten that you can be such a comedian sometimes, Rugh. Believe it or not, you're the only person I don't feed to my rancor for telling such bad jokes."

Rugh's face swelled, turned red, and he felt his feet nervously tapping on the floor of the bridge. He thought about making a run for it, turning around and heading as far away as he could. With luck, he could make it out of the Interdictor's range in about a week, as long as he wasn't shot to Kessel by the _Judgmental_ before he got out of firing range.

"You're far too serious, Captain Rugh. I was merely saying a joke. I do not own a rancor. Or at least not a _regular_ rancor that I know of."

"Yes, sir. Can you hold on for just a moment, sir?"

"Yes, but make it short."

Rugh turned to Lieutenant Gonoe. "Are there any ships in the vicinity besides us and Fiell?"

The lieutenant did a brief scan and reported that the stars were clear. He also explained that he had contacted their last rendezvous point and the comms control man there had said that the fleet was running a little bit behind. The admiral was not expected to drop out of hyperspace until at least a half-an-hour.

The captain returned to Fiell. "Well, I guess I have nothing better to do than stay here for a while anyway." He sighed with regret. He was very disappointed that he was going to have to be here with Fiell for ninety long minutes.

"By the way, sir," Rugh continued, "Who exactly is this 'nemesis' that you are waiting to ambush?"

"Does it matter, captain?" Fiell allowed. "Well, if you must know it is a rogue warlord on the loose. A rogue _Imperial_ warlord, that is."

Rugh nodded. "Well, I can see you are going to have your hands full. I have matters to attend, but feel free to call any time you _have_ to."

The holo of Fiell dissipated, and Rugh felt very relieved.

He turned around and walked back to his position where he could watch his bridge crew work. "Ensign Jacathrey," he said, looking at a young female officer, "is their any stealth ships around here?"

"I don't know, sir. Our systems can't detect stealth ships, that's why they call them _stealth_."

He almost bit his tongue. "Ensign, my I have a word with you; in _private_?"

She gulped; some of the other officers looked toward her and at Rugh. He signaled for them to get back to work, and they obediently did so. Jacathrey left her station and followed Rugh off the bridge.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ensign, I understand that you're new. It's about time that you learn to never insult my intelligence."

Jacathrey nodded slowly. "Of course sir, I understand completely. It won't happen again," she said with much haste as she quickly—and irregularly—saluted.

"You're not a normal Imperial officer."

She was about to go back to her station, but halted. "Sir?"

"You don't seem like you know what to do. Who trained you, ensign—?"

Another siren interrupted him. This one semaphored that a ship was submerging from hyperspace and was presumably hostile. "We will continue this discussion later, ensign. Get back to your station."

"Yes sir!" she called, already hustling back to the bridge.

_At least she knows when there _could_ be trouble and does exactly what she's told_, Rugh thought. Three seconds after she was back on the bridge, Rugh followed.

As soon as he returned to his normal position, Lieutenant Gonoe bombarded him with information. "Captain Rugh, sir! We've just received word that the approaching ship is of Imperial registration. Also, sir, Warlord Fiell has moved two of his star destroyers into attack position and is following closely behind."

"What about his other ships?"

"Another two are holding their position, presumable back-ups," Gonoe declared.

"What about the sixth ship, the Victory Destroyer?"

"Sir, it is on an intercept course for . . . us."

"Hail them. Find out what the hell is going on!"

"On it sir," the comms officer said.

A few seconds of waiting and the Victory Destroyer's representative was on the intercom. "This is Commander Zahledo, captain of the _Viceroy_. We are here to escort you to a safe area."

"Acknowledged. Thanks, I guess."

Not in the mood for chitchat, Rugh signaled the comms officer to cut the link to this Zahledo. He knew something was amiss. Why he would need safety from one star destroyer with a fleet between him and them was beyond him. Also, it was unnecessary to send a _Victory_-class star destroyer to escort another ship to safety. They could very easily just send a squadron or even a flight of fighters to do the job.

A few moments later, he witnessed the _Viceroy_ launch all of its fighters and sent them toward the new ship. In fact, all of Fiell's fighters were launched. From reports, it seemed that only one squadron from each ship stayed to escort them. The rest were all heading for the 'enemy' ship.

The _Viceroy—_a little faster than the _Vigilante_, Rugh's star destroyer—caught up to him and began to pass the larger ship. When it had almost completely past, it matched its speed to the _Vigilante_'s and pointed its nozzle a little bit in Rugh's direction. They were clearly herding him. Their destination was the grey moon, or some place in its vicinity, that was beginning to show itself. Rugh checked the aft sensors and saw the fighters converge with the enemy about ten minutes later. The star destroyers were attacking at the same time. In a matter of minutes—if not seconds—the ship would be completely destroyed. What surprised Rugh was that all of the ships fired in unison. They did not just pick and choose their targets either. Every one of them was aiming for what looked like the port side of the ship.

Rugh, being on the starboard side, could not tell for sure, though. He ordered the torpedo room to launch a probe in the shape of a missile into the battlefield and pick up any information that it could. "Be sure that it is not seen by anyone else, though," he added. "Be swift about it, would you? I would like the information _before_ the newcomer is destroyed."

"Yes, sir. But sir, the only probe we have left is the—"

"I don't care about which probe it is, just do it!"

"Acknowledged, captain. We won't tarry too much."

_Sarcasm_, Rugh thought. He made a mental note to scold them later on, but for the moment he could not risk damaging their ego. He shut off the intercom, all the way off.

A few minutes later, he had been told that the probe was launched and would be in the battle area within the minute. The probe went surprisingly fast, but a stray shot could damage it heavily. Soon it was reported that the probe had reached the overwhelmed star destroyer and was recording everything that it saw and heard. The effort, however, seemed to be useless. A few seconds into recording, the star destroyer was destroyed, along with everything near it. The probe was well out of range, but while it was recording the damage footage, a solar array from a destroyed TIE fighter smashed into the probe's blind side. Whether or not it was destroyed was undeterminable, for the tracking beacon was no longer working on it and a scan of the area would detect everything from a battery to a droid. The search would take to long and Fiell would surely ask some questions about what had happened. Then Rugh would have to tell him that he was in his business and _spying_ on him. That would not be the smartest thing to do, especially considering he was outnumbered six to one and the _Judgmental _itself made up for about five. Eleven-to-one odds were not very good.

Fortunately, a few minutes later, Rugh's task force had arrived. Fiell was already leaving, and did not even send a word or two either the _Vigilante_ or any other ships.

Rugh's admiral allowed another ship to ride shotgun, making Rugh stay behind until the rest of fleet was ready to move out.

If the admiral had been thirty seconds later, he would have missed the Interdictor and leave Rugh stranded there all alone, unable to follow behind them. In that event, he probably would have had to stuck around with Warlord Fiell. The idea did not sit well with him.

Once they had entered hyperspace, the torpedo room called with some rather disturbing news. "What do you mean we lost the holo evidence?" he demanded. "We spent everything trying to get that evidence!"

Sweat rolled down his face. Before they could answer, he shut off the comm link. This holo could alter the course of the Imperial-New Republic war, and he had lost it in the middle of a battlefield. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid. In any case, he could not do anything until they arrive at their destination. Then he could send a recover group to pick up the probe and bring it back . . . if it was still intact, which was unlikely.

He found that he would have a lot of trouble sleeping that night. "As soon as we get to our destination, Gonoe, I wanted to send out a recovery team. Organize one before we arrive. We can't have the admiral getting suspicious."

PART ONE 

**GAFFEO TWO**

**CHAPTER ONE**

Flight Cadet Ditch Necco knew exactly what was going on.

His flight leader had been avoiding him for quite some time now. Most others thought it was simply because the Bothan knew he was trouble. A few other people he had talked to said that the lieutenant had been avoiding everyone in the past few weeks.

He would have left it at that, but he had seen Flight Cadet Lonnell Jax talking to the lieutenant just the other day. Maybe he was coming around slowly, but Necco doubted it very seriously. He thought for a little while that the Bothan realized Ditch was trouble, and did not want to be cajoled into doing something that could ruin his career. If that was the case, Ditch was highly offended. He would never do anything _too_ serious; it wasn't like he went around roiling rivals' houses with toilet paper or programming a droid to mess up an opponent's simulator mission so he could take his spot on more _important_ things. Well, at least he _usually_ didn't do anything like that.

_Okay_, he admitted._ I'm trouble. But I'm loyal, hard-working . . . maybe a little too cocky, but I _do_ get the job done._

He usually did get the job done, too. There was that one time, of course, when he decided to be the big hero by taking out the corvette that was attacking a Mon Cal star cruiser. He left his flight vulnerable to attack by the flight TIE fighters pursuing them. He dropped his proton torps on the corvette, managed to destroy the engines, but the TIE fighters totaled his flight. He had left them wide open, yes; but the fact that three fully-equipped X-wings could not take a flight of unshielded TIE fighters was really sad.

It would have been even sadder if the pilots of the TIE flight were not Dimmenos Larkin, Seria Henarsi, Widmua H'rogo, and Korb Yua'lak. The foursome was possibly the best flight in Barnootsna Academy on Gaffeo 2.

Still, they were unshielded and one broke off to intercept Ditch. That meant that three lousy TIE fighters whipped three superior X-wings in a one-on-one engagement.

Seria Henarsi had followed after Ditch as he made his run on the corvette. After its engines were down, it kept on bombarding the Mon Cal cruiser until the larger ship had to break-off and wait for reinforcements. That day was pretty much a disappointment. It would have been a lot worse if hadn't been for what happened right before the simulator had been shut down.

As he was making his escape, Seria winds up behind him. He found that he couldn't shake her off and was about to eject before she vaped him, when he realized—or at least _thought_—that Seria was purposely missing by a few meters. When he stopped maneuvering, he was bombarded with weak shots that destroyed his shields and then blew off his stabilizers. There was a slight hesitation, however, he thought. He was stranded there while the TIE flight formed back together and made a run on the fleeing Mon Calamari cruiser. Ditch jettisoned, watching his X-wing void and explode. The last thing he remembered was a giant Bothan hand pulling him out of the sim pod and then blacking out.

It had been a week since then that Ditch finally knew what was going on. Lieutenant Ghuessh Bro'shaw was avoiding him until the discharge papers came through. It was very likely to happen, Necco knew. Bothans can be very relentless when it came to punishment. Something was coming Ditch's way, and he just wished that he knew what it was. The suspected discharge was the most likely, but there were many other things that Bro'shaw could do to him in the meantime. He could be sent to the brig, be ordered to do some unspeakable jobs, or be the lieutenant's personal aide for a while. All three ideas did not sit very well with him.

Necco was in the rec room when a few other cadets gathered around him, surveying him. Flight Cadet Jicks Yughey, the final person in Bro'shaw's flight, spoke first. "Hey man. You've been staring at the wall for the last ten minutes. Is there something wrong?"

Necco straightened up from his relaxed pose, just realizing the five cadets congregated around him. He had been daydreaming again. He did that every once in awhile. "When's graduation?" he asked.

"A standard year from next week," commented Dae Bootra, a Duros. "Why do you ask?"

"Never mind."

"Hey," said Ramel Vorax, "you seem a little bit down. I know the perfect thing for you. Let's go get drunk and then pick up some chicks. My new landspeeder is the perfect command center."

Ditch snorted. "Why don't you take Lieutenant Kadar? He could definitely use a night on the town."

That was probably true, too. Gren Kadar, Ramel's lieutenant, had not visited the rec room in three days, which was very irregular. The Sullustan lived at the rec room; it was the only place on campus where the pilots could get away from the cautious instructors and truant officers. No civilized man or woman dared to step a foot in the rec room without a pack of armed police officers at their heels. It was a sort of holy ground for the trainees and students. None of the 'demons' could go there, according to most of the lowlifes. Gren was always in there mingling with the local riffraff, trying to make friends. He almost always left having made another buddy. He explained one day, "The more friends I make in here, the fewer punches I have to throw out _there_." In a way, that was true.

"I'd take Gren, but I hear he's in another meeting tonight. A disadvantage of being an officer while your still in the academy."

"Is that why you keep turning down your promotions?" entailed Tefkar Oothkar, a native of Gaffeo 2. She was not your average female human pilot. She hung with the guys all the time. Lonnell Jax was usually with them, too, but that was just because she didn't want to be a loner. Loners didn't last long in the rec room. Except for Gren, that was.

Ramel shrugged. "Being a Flight Officer is all right, but the pay's almost the same and you really don't have anymore authority than a cadet has. In addition you have a lot more responsibility than before."

"I don't know about you," Dae Bootra quietly uttered to Ditch, "but I'm always in for a promotion. That way I'm eligible to become a lieutenant. I'd _kill_ to be an officer."

Ditch nodded. "Ramel doesn't realize it," he said, pretending to be whispering but speaking just loud enough so everyone could hear, "but it's not because Ramel's a Rodian that he's avoided; it's because he's a _cadet_ Rodian."

Ramel Vorax made some of his alien face gestures; he was presumably thinking it over. "You really think so, Necco?"

Ditch turned his head to face him. "Yeah."

Although Ramel most likely didn't realize it, his promotion could get them into some of the more classy bars and hangouts, where most of the slightly older or higher ranked pilots frequented. Dae Bootra knew what was up, for it was he and Ditch who had thought up the scheme. The other three were oblivious to it, for all he knew. That was the way it was best. Only two guests max were allowed with a member.

Bootra turned to Vorax also. "This could be your last chance, man. I saw that letter from Colonel Welf Pikins on your desk—" Dae bunked with him— "It's a promotion offer, right?"

"Well, yes."

Dae Bootra grinned slyly, patting the Rodian's back. "Let's go back to the room, and I'll help you write a letter. We have to really sweet-talk these guys, so you'll need my expertise in the matter."

As the Duros forced Ramel out of the rec room, Ditch felt relieved. As soon as they were a good twenty meters away, he finally yielded and broke out with laughter. The other three sat down and continued encircling him. Jicks Yughey leaned close to him. "You really think that they're going to write a letter?"

This was even better. "Who knows, Jicks? I think they're going to 'write a letter', though."

"Ah, I . . . uh, see."

Letting Jicks, his roommate, in on the plan would only cause the Ditch's mission to be tougher. If the word got out that Ramel Vorax was hitting the best resorts on Gaffeo 2, which weren't that great anyway, everyone would be trying to get him to take them with him. If three guests were allowed, he _would_ let Jicks in on it, but, unfortunately, that was not the case for the time being.

In three months, it wouldn't matter anyway. Seniors at Barnootsna Academy were automatically flight officers, for some reason. But for the next three months, Ditch wanted to be one of the few juniors that were let into those kind of places.

"I wonder where Dimm and his gang are?" Jicks changed the subject. "I haven't seen _them_ around here in a while, either."

Ditch shrugged. "I don't know."

Actually, he knew exactly where they were. They were in one of those flight officers-only joints, having the time of their lives.

Lonnell perked up. "I think I might know—"

"Lonnell," Ditch said, giving her a warning glance. She was a know-it-all, and she was usually with the seniors. She thought that she was that popular. She was only with her fellow juniors when she couldn't get into the better places, because the seniors had already inviting some of their friends. "I don't think Jicks cares that much." Big mistake; now it sounded like he was up to something.

"They're at Kankof's Den," Lonnell continued anyway. She rolled her eyes. "That flight officers-only place.

Ditch looked down at his watch. It was a little past midnight and was time to head back to the barracks. "I'm heading back to my place. Jicks, do you need a ride?"

"In your junky old thing? I think I'd rather walk home. That's what you'll probably be doing, anyway. Your landspeeder, if it can be _called_ a landspeeder, will break down halfway there."

"Fine, have it your way." Ditch got up and threw the credits he owed to the rec room waitress on the table. "See you later."

"Right," called Jicks, as he left.

"Later." Lonnell and Tefkar called, almost in unison.

He did not usually leave this early, but he wanted to go check in on Dae and Ramel. The Duros _may_ have been able to help Vorax, but Necco wanted to go check anyway.

From the rec room, he walked toward the entry of the day center, where the cadets and other trainees ate breakfast and lunch (dinner was optional, so most everyone went off campus or to the rec room during dinnertime). Since the rec room was conveniently located in the same building, it allowed many people to run leisurely between the cafeteria and rec room during free periods. Once he was outside, he headed towards the barracks which was located halfway across campus. The main building, where the staff, instructors, etc. met and the commandant's office was located, was located in between him and his destination. Walking all the way around could get him mugged and walking though could get him lost, so he always had to think about which way to go. Almost always he decided that he would rather be lost than walk around with no money to buy dinner. This time was no exception. He stepped inside and got his bearings from a map next to the door. He discovered the right way to go and rounded a corner to get to a hallway that would lead him to the barracks.

Just as he saw what was in the hallway, something knocked him across the lobby floor. He grunted heavily as he thought he heard an arm break against a pillar he hit. He was very glad when he discovered that his arm still worked fine by moving it and testing the bones in it. It still stung very bad, though.

He sat up to see his presumed-assailant. Another man was sprawled out on the rock ground. He looked like he was in his mid to late twenties, but had a very eventful life. His hair was the lightest shade that brown could go without being considered blond. He looked like one of those mercenaries who lived on the edge all the time, whether it is in a bar fight or in a blaster volley. The man was a complete wreck; his eyes had not been closed for more than two seconds in at least three days. After examining him over, saying that Ditch was surprised that the man bore a New Republic insignia on his class A uniform was a giant understatement. Then he saw the man's rank.

Necco slowly pulled himself up, cradling his arm. It was half past midnight and it was a little too late for this sort of stuff to be happening. He had gotten into many fights and feuds later than this, but running into this guy could get him charged with striking a superior officer. He was sure that Ghuessh would be delighted to hear that. The Bothan probably had a micro cam hidden on Ditch's jacket, just waiting for him to screw up on tape.

As soon as he was up, he reached his hand down to the man and offered to help him up.

His answer was a grunt of either pain or disgust—or a mixture of both. In a half-second, the man had jumped to his feet and stood before Ditch.

"I'm sorry, sir. I did not see you there. It won't happen again, _I promise_."

A blank face stared across at him.

"Sir, are you okay?"

"Yes. Of course I'm all right. I didn't hit you _that_ hard. I got some minor scratches, but not anything serious. What about you; are you okay?"

"Yes sir. I'm fine." Ditch realized he was not at attention. He stood straight and dropped his arms to his side. Barnootsna Academy was very strict about procedure and discipline. Commandant Pikins would have him running three miles in the rain, if it were he that Necco had crashed into.

"There's no need for that. What's your name, son?"

Necco hesitated for a moment. "Uh, Ditch Necco."

"Why are you so nervous? I said to stop standing at attention."

Ditch relaxed a little. "Sir, I really must be going."

The man extended a hand. "I'm Commander Cale Soner."

Ditch grabbed the hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Drop the 'sir' and get lost, since you got such an important place to go."

He nodded, turning to leave. He had thought for sure that Soner was going to report him, and, of course, he still could if he wanted to. Ditch was pretty sure that Soner was not going to report him, though. The man seemed like he had his own stuff to worry about besides picking on cadets. He headed straight for the barracks and, surprisingly enough, found that it was packed. He had to squeeze through the assembly in the lobby to see what was up.

When he reached the front of the line, he saw some more New Republic officers in front of everyone. Behind a few guards stood a tall man. He looked a little older than Soner, had black hair, and a fuzzy goatee. "Attention, Barnootsna's seniors. How would you like to join the best squadron in the New Republic Starfighter Command, Rogue Squadron? Well, so would I, but unfortunately it just ain't going to happen. Think about joining the _second_ best squadron, though, would you? It might not get all the fame but we do our part. Join Sovereign Squadron and together we can fight the Empire. If anyone's interested, sign-up and be here tomorrow for try-outs. I can't guarantee you'll make it and only the best four seniors out of the entire academy will get to come with me back to the base on Unngrae, in its own system."

The crowd that walked forward seemed to be rushing things a bit. They thought that maybe the first person to enter would automatically be in. Ditch looked at the last foursome in line. It was Dimm Larkin, Seria Henarsi, Widmua H'rogo, and Korb Yua'lak. They leisurely walked up to the desk and signed their names down. Ditch believed that they could easily make Sovereign Squadron, but he felt that they couldn't take all the glory and fame away from the others. A scheme developed in his mind. It was a really stupid plan, but it _was _a plan. He walked up behind them and watched as they walked away. Dimm stopped to look at him.

"Good luck."

Necco nodded. "Thanks."

The two humans smiled the tiniest bit to not give him away while the aliens kept straight faces, not even knowing what was going on. The Bothan and Gotal could probably not tell the difference between most humans, so they most likely didn't recognize Necco, didn't know what was going on, or they just didn't care.

Ditch picked up the pen and wrote his name down, scanning over his appointment time and whether he was in a group or not. He thought about putting down his other flight members, but Lonnell might give it away and Bro'shaw would be _really_ upset. Then he thought about signing up Dae, Ramel, and Jicks. Since they're bound to get caught, Ramel would most likely not receive his promotion, so Ditch only put down himself.

He walked away before he gave himself away and started to walk down the stairs to his and Jicks's room. Dimm put a hand on his shoulder before he could get away. He spun around and said, "Hey," to the senior flight.

"Did you actually sign up?" asked Seria.

"You better believe it."

"Colonel Pikins is going have your head."

"I know, Seria. But, its better than having my head rot around on the couch having nothing to do all the time after next week."

_Way to go_, he told himself, sarcastically.

"What do you mean, 'after next week'? What happens then?" wondered Dimmenos.

"Uh . . . break. Out for two-and-a-half months."

"_Right_." Dimm always acted like he knew something.

Out of nervousness, he scratched the back of my head. "Yeah. I have to go now."

Seria spun him around. "We're going to Kankof's Den. You want to come with us."

Necco froze for a few seconds. He did, but he had told Dae that he'd meet him in his room to help Ramel in a little while. "Well, I have to do something."

"I told you," H'rogo said, turning to leave. "_Waste _of time!"

As Ditch was about to head off _again_, Dimm said, "Well, we'll be there for another hour or two. Stop by if you get a chance."

"No admittance for cadets, Dimm," Ditch reminded him.

"Just come. Don't worry about anything else."

Then they climbed up the stairs towards the lobby, leaving. Necco arrived at Ramel and Dae's room a few minutes later. Once he was allowed in, he sat down on Ramel's bottom bunk. Dae was already writing the letter at the desk. The Rodian had past out next to him, holding a bottle of some sort of alcoholic drink in his hands.

"That's what I figured would happen."

Dae huffed irritably. "Next time, Necco. Next time, _you_ are doing this."

Ditch leaned back against the pillow and stared up at the top bunk. _Not bad, Ramel._ Ditch would have also picked the bottom bunk in this situation. Unless the Rodian was forced to sleep there. Dae liked to be high, in more ways than one, that was why he enrolled at Barnootsna. The Duros pilot probably fought Ramel for the top bunk.

"Well," began Ditch, "I think I'm going to head back out. See you around."

He was just getting up as Dae frowned at him. "You're leaving? You got me into this mess and you won't even stick around while I finish _your_ work? What's your game, cadet?"

"Fine, I'll stay. I didn't realize you were that lonely." Ditch sat back down on the bed. "How much longer until you finish that thing?"

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?"

Ditch kept quiet while Dae continued to write the letter. This probably wasn't legal, but Ramel couldn't be trusted with five credits after he drank even a little bit. Ramel just didn't know when to quite drinking. The remarkable thing was that alcohol had not long term affect on him, no matter how much he drank. He could drink a keg, would pass out for five minutes and could successfully land his E-wing during a hailstorm ten minutes later.

Dae grunted again, sealing up the letter. He handed it to Ditch. "While you're out, mail this."

Ditch nodded, getting up to leave again. He left Dae, who looked very tired, and left the barracks. On the way out the door, he slid the letter in the mail box. After finding his landspeeder back in the parking lot next to the main building which he had nicknamed "Welf Center", he realized that he had forgotten it there.

Jicks was right: his landspeeder _was_ a little old for use. It was one that had been salvaged from the Clone Wars and shipped to Gaffeo 2 for spare parts. Ditch had come across it at a machine shop where his friend Big Bubba worked. He offered two thousand credits for it but Big Bubba gave it to him for one thousand, which was about all that it was worth.

Ditch had gotten his money from his parents, who were perhaps the richest people on his homeworld, Tsijenna. They owned a large and prosperous, but not-so-legit corporation. Every New Republic Intelligence officer in the sector had tried to slam them at one time or another.

It took him five minutes just to start the landspeeder and another ten to get off campus to Kankof's Den. He parked the Green Egg in front of the building and hopped out, literally.

There was no line of people waiting to get in, only a big guy watching the door. Ditch walked up to him and tried to get admittance. "No admittance," was his reply.

Finally, Dimm Larkin walked over and said, "He's a guest. Let him in Boltar."

Grumbling, the ogre moved out of the way to allow Ditch entrance. Once Ditch had came all the way in and Boltar had returned to his guarding position, the junior handed him twenty credits. "Thanks."

The place was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a standard cantina/club that had a twin in every city on every planet in the Outer Rim. However, it was several steps up from the rec room on his scale. He took a seat at the seniors' table and ordered a drink from the waitress. Instead of the dirty glasses used repeatedly by the rec room bartenders, Ditch found himself drinking from a clean mug straight from the 'fresher. This was rare on Gaffeo2; it was rare _everywhere_ within the sector.

Although no one talked all that much, Ditch was just glad to be at better place than the rec room. True, Kankof's Den lacked some of the facilities and activities that the rec room specialized in, but it was worth it.

About midway through their time there, the Gotal Widmua H'rogo looked at Ditch with a surprised face. Grinning, he said, "So Ditch, did you know that Gotals can pick up emotions from other people?"

Korb sighed heavily. "Oh, great. Here we go again."

"Don't bore him."

"Seria, I'm sure that he will not be bored and neither shall you nor Korb nor even Dimm, who is always bored, will be bored in the least bit."

"Then please _do_ go on." Dimm shook his head and ordered another drink.

Widmua glanced around the room and leaned on the table in Ditch's direction. He whispered in Ditch's ear, allowing no one else to here him. Ditch's eyes opened wide and he blushed. "That's what I thought." He sat back down in his seat. "Now, are any of you bored?"

Dimm grabbed his third and final drink for the night and sipped it. "No. I was so entertained trying to figure out what you said. I think I have it narrowed down to about a trillion ideas."

"I'd say that was pretty dull," Korb admitted. "Nothing exciting about it at all."

"I thought it was kind of funny when Ditch's face almost lit up in flames." Seria laughed and finished her only drink. "I'd love to stay, boys, but this flygirl has to catch up on some badly needed sleep before tryouts tomorrow."

"I'm out too," stated Dimm. "Seria, you want a ride back to barracks."

"Oh, all right."

Ditch shook his head as they walked away.

"Don't get too down, their just good friends."

Korb raised an eyebrow as he matched Ditch's gaze. He whispered to his Gotal friend, "Good god, Widmua, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Ditch has the hots for Dimmenos Larkin!"

**CHAPTER TWO**

The most populated planet in the sector, sadly, lays in the Unngrae System. Since it was the first planet to be colonized there, the ocean world was also considered Unngrae. It was perhaps the furthest New Republic base away from Coruscant and the Core Worlds, making it unshielded from pirate gangs or mercenaries or whatever that could approach from near the edge of the galaxy. In one direction lay the outermost section of the Outer Rim, in another lurked the Tingel Arm and the notorious Corporate Sector, in another was the rest of the galaxy, and in another several Imperial warlords basked on the edge of the unknown regions.

Intelligence reports confirmed that the warlords were making no effort to advance on Unngrae's front. Scouts testified that the pirates and mercenaries from near the Edge were amassing, but not in the New Republic base's direction.

The entire planet of Unngrae was water. True, small islands were reported by pilots, but most of them, surprisingly, contained what appeared to be man- or exotic-made caverns in the island cores. Even more surprising was the fact that sensors and comms could not function in the caves and all explorers that made it past the first three hundred meters never returned.

Structures enveloped one-third of the planet, built on ferrocrete columns that were built into the sea floor. It was very expensive to build the circular columns that held up the city, because they had to extend four kilometers down and, in some areas, more. The other two-thirds of the planet had not been colonized since Republic explorers landed more than a thousand years before and discovered that in those areas the sea floor was up to fifty kilometers deep. The Mon Calamari could easily overcome this with their floating platforms but, unfortunately, the human pioneers dominated the entire sector and were not about to relinquish _any_ of their planets or moons to aliens.

The capital city of Unngrae, Unkath, was, in fact, the only city. The entire planet was one city. Many believed that this was done to attract people from the Core, thereby luring millions of potential customers to their markets. The people of Unngrae were very disappointed. No one from the Core, Inner Rim, or Middle Rim had even heard of the Unngrae system.

After the Empire fell, Unngrae joined the New Republic and finally people came. They were not who was expected, though. Instead of traders with deep pockets, they got military personnel with _no_ pockets.

Unngrae had no room left over for bases and such on the surface, so repulsarlift cities, with the help of Ithorian technicians, were constructed. By the time Grand Admiral Thrawn was defeated, seven cities filled the skies, each housing military personnel or VIPs. In addition, a stardrive was constructed in space, and provided the planets with fighters and small ships. Due to its size, Unngrae could not produce ships as large as a Mon Cal cruiser. The largest ship in orbit was an irregular frigate with no particular design, about 1.5 times as large as the Nebulon-B medical frigate that shared a pier with it at a small space dock.

On the other side of the dock were three Corellian ships—one corvette and two gunships. Unngrae's Navy may have been small, but they had more ships than they could have dreamed of for guarding the sector.

The repulsarlift cities carried no names, but were known as Rep Cities One through Seven. Rep City One, the smallest of them all, was where the Unngrae Area Intelligence officers and scouts reported to. Rep City Two though four served as bases for the guards, soldiers, etc. Rep City Six and Seven were for VIPs and politicians.

Rep City Five housed Unngrae's fighter contingent of twelve squadrons. Of course, not all twelve squadrons were there at once. Two squadrons were always on escort duty for the cities and stations, while one squadron stayed aboard the frigate _Vatical_. Three more were on continuous stand-by. Those six were all under one Lieutenant Colonel Sen Yughey. Another six squadrons, led by Lieutenant Colonel Rin Dinjin, were dispatched to other areas of the sector. This was necessary because Unngrae was the capital of the sector and most other planets had little or not any protection from terrorists, pirates, or the Empire.

Rin Dinjin was sort of the sheriff of the sector. He had six great squadrons that were loyal and knew the difference between right and wrong. Even if sometimes they got a little out of control in fights, Dinjin knew that they would never do anything to endanger their squadmates' lives, innocent lives, and their own lives that was not absolutely necessary.

Lieutenant Colonel Rin Dinjin was not on the starfighter city, as he usually was when he was on duty. Off-duty, he could be found ground side at a local cantina or taking a spin around the planet in one of his ships. But he was on-duty and he had been called to Major Unfus Agerd's office for a brief discussion.

Agerd stood up and saluted Rin Dinjin as he entered the officer. Dinjin returned the salute and they were both seated on opposite sides of Agerd's desk.

"Sir, first of all I'd like to thank you for coming here on such short notice. I know starfighter jockeys usually don't mingle with Intel operatives, and the feeling is mutual, so I know what strength it must have taken for you to come here."

Dinjin laughed under his breath. "I understand, Major."

"Yes, well . . ." Agerd twisted his neck slightly, relieving some tension. "Anyway, I brought you here for a very important reason. A colleague of mine reported in just recently with some interesting news. Warlord Fiell was at Sinagig just last week. With him his ship, _Judgmental_. I'm sure you're aware of it. It appears that another fleet showed up too: Admiral Shrok Bandanor and several of his ships moved through the system and were pulled from hyperspace by Fiell's Interdictor cruiser. Then another star destroyer arrived and was obliterated by Fiell. Strange reading came from the debris, but when my operative approached a distress beacon of some sort, he was fended off by a weapon of sort . . ."

"What kind of weapon."

"Unconfirmed. He wasn't planning on sticking around to find out, either. He hightailed it back here and reported directly to me."

"This has to do with me, how?"

Major Agerd smiled broadly. "I want you to send a squadron of yours in and investigate the debris. I need information on that weapon and on that beacon."

Dinjin sighed. "For the good of the sector and the New Republic, I will go. I imagine I would be forced to by our superiors to go, anyway."

"Unfortunately, that _is_ the case."

Before departing, Rin Dinjin had been given a more detailed briefing, and passed on the information to his A-wing squadron. An unconfirmed report stated that the star destroyer that was destroyed by Fiell was one of the rogue Captain Azia's two ships.

Thinking of Azia made Rin shiver. Their last run-in had been the death of seventeen of his pilots. It was about a year before, when Dinjin had just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. He was inexperienced in commanding the lives of seventy-two beings and, to top it all off, his first mission required his squads to attack a Golan Defense platform that guarded Azia's moon base. The six squadrons destroyed the station using proton torpedoes from a great distance, so there were no casualties. Without any missiles left, Rin Dinjin led three squads to follow him down to the moon base, while the other three attacked the fighters launching from the approaching star destroyers.

Dinjin knew that if the star destroyers made it to the moon, he would be finished. Since he had a narrow window, he attacked the base before Intel could successfully analyze it. The ground resistance was light, but a squadron of TIE Defenders launched from a hangar with Azia commanding.

The TIE Defenders went for his Y-wing squadron first, destroying the whole group with ease. Then they slowly hit the others. Dinjin's group did finally win, but Azia and another fighter escaped to the incoming star destroyers. With enough damage done to the base to ensure that the Imps would not be operating from there for a while, Dinjin withdrew.

He vowed revenge on Azia, for he had lost his brother, his best friend, and his cousin to the Imperial captain's hands.

From Unngrae, it was a thirty-hour flight to Sinagig. After twenty hours in hyperspace, Dinjin's squadron emerged at a civilian refueller station. The locals had seen a lot of strange visitors in the past few weeks, so they asked very few questions. It was just as well that they kept a low-profile on this mission. Dinjin preferred to keep things under wraps so he wouldn't let anything confidential slip.

The last ten hours seemed to take twice as long as the first twenty. Dinjin felt anticipation, hesitation, fear, and excitement all at once during the last ten minutes. This mission might be routine for some of the fighter squadrons on the war fronts, but out here on the Edge, this was _hardly_ ordinary. This was a small, so it seemed, mission, yet it was the biggest since his last encounter with Captain Azia.

His A-wing boasted no socket for his R2 unit back on Unngrae, so he felt a bit lonely on the trip. There was no copilot in the galaxy that he wanted more than his droid companion. The A-wing may be fast, making it great for recon missions but if there was as much debris as he thought there would be, his weak transparisteel canopy could be breached.

He watched his timer roll down to zero, and the stars stopped shooting past him. In their places were stationary dots. In the middle of his vision, he saw dispersed shrapnel.

"Lead, here. Break up into your flights. Flight leaders contact me."

"This if Five. Awaiting orders."

"One, Nine here. Standing by."

"All right, listen up. Five, inspect area for the beacon, see if its still blazing. Nine, cover me. We're going after that weapon."

"Acknowledged, sir."

Rin Dinjin checked his scanners for any signs of life. He spotted a flashing dot on his screen, indicating the distress beacon. As Two Flight broke off in its direction, Rin glanced around for anything bearing teeth. "One Flight, split up and continue the search. Two Flight break apart and cover us."

Without waiting for replies, he pushed the stick away from him and slowed down. The debris was spread out enough that he could avoid collisions but that made it take longer to comb the area. He also realized that most of the shrapnel could pierce straight through an A-wing if given the chance.

"Squadron, this is Leader. Power up shields and reduce speed."

Five said, "What's wrong, One?"

"Just a precaution. This is powerful debris out here, if we hit one without shields it could pierce through the hull into _you_."

"I told you these A-wings are pieces of junk," Nine commented.

An annoyed Two broke in. "That piece of junk you're riding in could save your sorry ass if we need to make a quick escape."

Dinjin smiled. "Cut the chatter. Proceed as ordered and report anything unusual."

The squadron broke up as planned and began searching the area. Dinjin drifted away from his flight, but his escort, Seven, followed just close enough to cover him if it were necessary. Rin continued scanning the area. In most cases, scanning for weapons or beacons were simple, but this area had an abnormally high amount of debris floating around, even for a star destroyer. Then something occurred to him.

"Four, anything?"

"Negative, Lead."

"Okay, scan the area for pieces of the bridge, engines, or deflector shields. I want a _good_ estimate."

"As ordered, sir."

Dinjin widened the distance between his squadron, as each of them spread apart even more. At twelve o'clock, a flourescent grayish-white moon brightened as he neared. Within a minute, he had swooped down and was covering the surface. Bits and pieces of ships littered the moon. Not even a Super Star Destroyer could leave this much debris behind.

As he pulled out, with Seven still close behind him, he could no longer find the rest of the squadron, not on senors or visually. He could not recall being more confused than he was right then. Nothing was making sense; Intel had reported that only one star destroyer was decimated here. Although it was likely that Major Agerd had simply forgotten to tell him of smaller escort ships or even that his contacts were not completely accurate, Rin wasn't about to bet money on it. Either they had been set up for some unknown reason or the extra wreckage was deposited _after _Agerd's people had gotten there.

"Four to One, I found and analyzed two pieces of the deflector shields. Markings suggest that they are of two different domes, but of the same ship."

"But there could be more, in other areas?"

"Yes sir, but that's not it. Wait, what do you mean? Pieces of _other_ generators?"

"Affirmative. Keep going."

There was a short, eerie silence. "I found all of the ship's engines. After continuing my search, I discovered more engine pieces. They look similar to those of Imperial recover ships and . . ."

"What?" demanded an irritated Seven.

"TIE Defenders."

Before Dinjin could respond with outrage, he saw on his scanners ten blips coming around the moon. "From two TIE Defenders?"

"Yes sir, but how did you know?"

"Shut up and get over here as fast as you can." He keyed the squadron. "This is One, get to my position orbiting the moon on-the-double!"

He knew they would never make it in time. Four and his escort would be on him in twenty seconds. The TIE Defenders would vape him long before then. Running would only prolong their arrival.

So instead of running, he plunged straight into their numbers in a foolhardy attempt to catch them off guard. It worked for the most part. His surprise encounter allowed him to make two potshots at an attacker. The enemy's shields absorbed the energy and broke off to follow him. Two of his cohorts followed. He had obviously taken a shot at the head honcho without realizing it. Normally he would feel honored that they considered him to be enough of a threat to send thirty percent of their numbers after him, but today was anything but a normal day by his standards.

"Seven, get clear while I try to buy some time and reduce their strength."

Seven shot off with haste. "As ordered. We'll hit them hard for you."

"I'm not dead yet."

Rin Dinjin set all of his shields aft and began to think. His three pursuers were hot on his tail, but he flew with great calmness. Heading straight for the moon, a plan formed in his mind.

It washed out as soon as the quick Defenders nailed him with their Ion cannons.

_They want me alive?_

It was obviously a trick to make him think he would live if he just powered down his engines. He called their bluff and powered up as far as he could without depleted all of his other resources. The A-wing was fast all right, but he knew that it couldn't outrun a TIE Defender. The leader, the one he had shot at, fired, this time with lasers. Still recharging from the Ion bolts, the weak shields were unable defend his ship. The red charge screamed as it erupted against his hull just aft from his cockpit. If it weren't for the extra-padded seat he sat on, his back would have a big hole in it.

He had to admit that they were good.

Focused on the getaway, Dinjin had failed to notice that his comms board was flashing. He flipped a switch and a hoarse voice echoed throughout his cockpit.

"—el Rin Dinjin, this is Racer One of the Imperial Navy. Surrender now or be destroyed . . ."

"Dinjin here, which Imperial Navy do you serve. Zsinj, Fiell, or some other measly warlord?"

"I serve only one master."

"Who's that?"

"The Emperor, of course."

"Hate to break it to you, but he's dead."

Dinjin, mainly on reflex, flipped his fighter around and launched a proton torpedo at Racer One's starboard wingman. The result was a frenzy of fire and destruction.

"Cease your fire, Dinjin! We mean you no harm." His voice was still shook up after losing his wingman. "That last shot was just to get your attention."

"It did that."

"Please, Colonel Rin Dinjin, surrender now or face the consequences."

"Give me one good reason why you don't want us dead."

After a moment of silence, the man said, "Colonel Dinjin, I have orders to terminate every last one of you—"

It was all the time that Dinjin needed to get a lock on the other wingman. As soon as his targeting brackets went blue, he fired. Shooting off at a high speed, the torpedo sought out its designated target and went after it like a hunter after a wampa. With a single shot, however, the torpedo was deflected by an enemy flare.

Cursing under his breath, Dinjin put the throttle up to full speed and shot past them once again. Before he made it ten meters, the remaining TIE Defender was on him again. Rin maneuvered his way past carefully aimed Ion bursts toward the moon ahead. Somehow he managed to make it through the atmosphere and into a nearby canyon.

With two TIEs on his tail, it was anything but a calm flight. The Imperial pilots, who were using red bolts instead of the regular Imperial green, fired sparsely but caused mass destruction to the scenery. It would have been a nice and quiet place to build a retirement home before the Imps made their run though the canyon.

Dinjin was surprised at their skill. They fired few times, but their precision was overwhelming. The only time he had ever seen this sort of skill was from Captain Azia, but that wasn't saying much since he hadn't been in the thick of things back when the Empire was worth more than two credits and a donut.

The canyon was tight, but Dinjin with his superb flying skill and fast A-wing managed to pull through until the end. As he went, the ground began to rise in a slope until it met with a tall canyon wall. Dinjin pulled back on the stick, but he wondered if he had time to make it out. He should have seen it coming and he would have seen if he wasn't trying to get a hold of his squadron. He struggled with the controls until he saw the TIE Defenders pull out with ease. Then he slammed on the brakes, slowing his A-wing until it could just barely gain a high altitude. It wasn't enough, however. He still could not pull himself up.

Checking his systems board, he knew he would have to jettison something, but the only thing left after the TIEs made their strafing runs were his weapons. Regrettably, he slammed the buttons to drop his extra missiles that had been installed by his technicians and another button to jettison his supplies.

Then he pulled up as hard as he could, scratching the rocky surface. His A-wing hit jagged rocks, ripping through his hull and slicing into his engines. He galloped for a few moments before turning backup repulsarlifts and propulsion on. He grinned as he started up toward space again. But frowned as he realized the rocks had cut so deep into his ship, that all the fuel had leaked out.

As his starfighter slammed into the ground a few seconds later, Rin Dinjin fell into darkness.

Rin Dinjin came to abruptly. He was still nestled in his compact A-wing cockpit, still staring at the control board on his side of the transparisteel canopy. He sincerely wished he had his astromech droid with him to help repair his ship. For all he knew, it could be just a few scratches. Or it could be severely damaged.

He stretched for a second than quickly pressed the ship's comlink. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Rin Dinjin, Unngrae Defense Fleet, Grey Wing, calling all UDF forces in the vicinity of Sinagig. Greys, do you copy?"

"This is Nine, my flight is secure and orbiting Sinagig. What happened?"

"I had to take a whizz. Are there any casualties?"

"Negative on our side, colonel. As soon as the fighting broke out, we tried to contact you and Nine, but failed. We landed on Sinagig and found a friendly little town with some nice girls. You should come by. I think Zaz has fallen for one of them. Anyhow, after we decided we'd spent enough time, we took an orbit around Sinagig to look for anyone else. Oh, yeah, me and Arina told some of the locals about what a hero you are, how handsome you are, and how much you're paid. Man, I don't like to lie, but it was so funny when they exclaimed that they all wanted to meet _you._"

Drikaletti Tuen, Nine, was a Twìlek flight officer who had been given Three Flight after the lieutenant previously in command decided that being a pirate was more promising. The flight officer was a very good pilot, but if in his place, Dinjin would not have taken his flight down to have fun while he should be finding out whether his squadmates lived or died.

"Any damage?" he asked, changing the subject.

Nine sighed heavily. "All our hyperdrive engines are shot; they even went after our long-range comms systems, so we can't phone home."

After checking his damage, he said, "Nine, my only working system is the _short_-range comlink. It looks like we're stuck unless we can find the others' comms intact. How far are you from this moon?"

"Five hours from Harvest, if we leave now. I don't know what good would it do, we can't stuff you in our cargo bays."

The Twi'lek was correct, they could not come after him. Rin opened the starboard glove compartment and pulled out its belongings. Three glow rods, a few ration bars, and a BlasTech DL-44 pistol with a full magazine of twenty-five shots.

"I had to dump all my items a few kilometers back in a canyon. Even if I had the right climbing equipment, it would take me all day to repel down there just for a sleeping bag and a week's worth of rations. I bet I could find a settlement by then."

"Well, be careful. Those TIEs are probably still lurking around and don't forget that One and Two Flights, minus you, are MIA, maybe even . . ."

"Don't even think about it, Flight Officer Tuen. Send by a ship to assist me, but everyone else should stay back. I'm going to take a walk, but you should be able to track me by my personal comlink."

"I'll send Arina. She's pretty good with that tracking business."

"Oh, and if I don't make it, head for Unngrae without me. If for any reason at all you can't get there, go to Gaffeo 2. Got that?" He waited for an affirmative-sign and said, "Leader out."

Without saying anything more, Dinjin popped his canopy and climbed out. Surprisingly, he did not feel any serious pain. He had expected some broken ribs or dislocated limbs, but he was in good shape except for the aches of a crash landing.

It was getting darker every minute and on Sinagig's moon, it got very dark. He couldn't explain it, but it was if at night there was no sun. It didn't matter, though, what did matter was that he got a move on for he only had ten hours of glow rod light left. He had no idea where he would be in ten hours, so he decided that the further he got away from the canyon, the better.

He made fairly good time for running at a jog-speed. Midway through the night, his first glow rod went out. Harvest's atmosphere had a strange effect on the glow rods, making them run out of energy faster than normal. _Much faster_. Average glow rods could last for up to fifty hours each, but his rods could only last 3.3 hours in the weird climate.

Switching his comlink frequency to Tuen, he said, "Nine, this is One. Any idea why my glow rods are burning out so fast? I've only been going for three-and-a-half hours with one already down."

"That's strange," the Twìlek admitted. "I'll get Arina to check it out while she's in the neighborhood."

"Tuen, it may not be save to send anything with power down here. Her ship could drain dry once she hits the atmosphere for all we know."

"We can't worry about it now. She's already entered the atmosphere on the opposite side of the planet. She's due at you're A-wing in roughly an hour."

"Copy, out."

He tucked the comlink back into his pocket and kept going.

He encountered much of the same desert-like territory throughout the journey, but gradually turned into a more temperate area with trees and a hill. He maneuvered his way past rocks and limbs of fallen trees until he reached the treeless peak. For one-hundred meters square, the land was relatively flat, making it a good place to land a ship. There, he waited for Arina Veyanol to find him and give him some supplies.

It was the darkest hour on the moon and his second glow rod had burned out when he saw the lights of a ship in the sky. He had been laying down with his face staring at the stars, using his pilot's jacket as a pillow. The image was blurred, but he felt confident about it. With relief, he stood up and waved his jacket around to signaled the pilot. The ship seemed to not notice him, so he again brought out his comlink.

"Flight Officer Veyanol, it's good to see you. I'm waving my jacket, but I don't know if you can see me, over."

"I can't see worth jack in this damned darkness!"

It was definitely the stubborn Barabel that Rin Dinjin knew well. "Just land and I'll find you, over."

"Whatever you say, colonel." The ship began to descend slowly and he stopped waving. Covering his eyes from the blinding light, the ship landed only five meters in front of him. "Nice landing, if I know anything."

"Good job not hitting the trees."

"Trees? I don't see any trees. Hey, I see you. What did you do with your jumpsuit?"

Dinjin cursed under his breath and dropped his hand to see the ship in front of him.

It was not an A-wing.

It was an assault shuttle.

Had he been blind before? Assault shuttles were thirty meters long, more than three times as long as the A-wings. He couldn't believe he had been fooled so easily.

As the hatch opened, he could barely see the white armor of stormtroopers through the hatchway. He dropped to the ground and rolled in the toward the opposite side of the ship. Once he had concealed himself for a few seconds he yelled in his comlink, "Arina, take off now! It's a trap!"

Before she could answer, he heard a faint noise on her end. He identified it as a bolt hitting her —a stun bolt, not anything fatal.

He could see partway underneath the ship, where a white foot lay. Drawing his blaster, he rounded the ship away from the stormtrooper and ran straight into another on the other side of the ship. "Hey," he bluffed, "I'm a little lost. Can I use your john?"

The stormtrooper stared at him blankly and said, "Sure," as he rammed the blaster into Rin's leg, hard. "But first you're going to have to answer a few questions."

Dinjin grabbed a hold of the trooper's shoulder and winced in pain as the enemy fiddled with his weapon settings. Once he was finished, he kneeled by the pilot, who was now on the ground, struggling to bring his blaster to bear on the other, and squeezed two stun charges into his chest.

**CHAPTER THREE**

The next morning, for Ditch Necco, was very eventful. He got up early, ate breakfast fast, and was in the lobby of the barracks just one hour after his alarm had woken him. When he looked around, he saw only senior faces, which meant that he was the only junior to try the stunt or that everyone else had been caught and interrogated. He felt a little bit nervous as he waited for Dopkin Flarrisk, who was the supposed commander of Sovereign Squadron. Once the New Republic officer strode in, he examined the seventy-one future-pilots who had shown up. He obviously didn't count them, because everyone on campus knew that only seventy seniors were allowed to attend Barnootsa, didn't care about the extra, or didn't know how many seniors there were. He couldn't imagine anyone taking time to count heads, so he suspected the foremost.

They were led to a testing room in Welf Center, one that was sometimes used for detention students, one that Ditch had seen often.

Ditch noticed Dimm and his trio of wingman, sitting on the opposite side of the room, a few rows back. Necco was located in the fourth row, deciding that middle was best. The people in the front always got called on and the people in the back could never hear anything that was being said. Nine beings had to stand because there were no more seats, all but the quartet of humans being angry Duhnoens.

"Thank you for attending this trial. A written test will be followed by simulator trials, and then you will be personally interviewed by me or one of my aides."

Some guy bearing a lieutenant's insignia passed out a durasheet and a writing utensil to each attendee. The nine in the back were pulling in desks from the hallway, where they would work for the time being.

Ditch rapidly marked down his answers, feeling a bit strange. The seniors around him struggled on more than one question, but Ditch was having little trouble. He saw Dimm's group raise their hands and an aide took their tests, eyeing them strangely. He was almost halfway finished, and already Dimm, Seria, Widmua, Korb, and a Duhnoen in the back were finished with their tests.

Ditch finished next, so he was allowed to leave the testing room while everyone else was still working. Outside, he saw his senior friends, waved, and walked over to the Duhnoen after receiving a wave from them. He walked up to the alien, only realizing that she was a female when she spoke.

"If you're thinking about hitting on me, I don't think I'm your type, Ditch."

He stepped back, aghast. "What?" He shook his head and laughed. "No, I was just wondering how you finished so fast?"

"It was a cakewalk."

"True, but I've never thought that a junior would have finished that test before them." He pointed at the quartet on the other side of the room. "They're the best I've ever seen behind the stick."

"You finished fast, and you're a junior."

"What makes you think that?"

"If you were a senior, your ego would have grown so big by now that you would never admit that someone was better than you."

"You're good. You know who I am, but who are you, besides another junior?" He extended a hand.

She shook it and nodded approvingly, but did not question him. "Slyna Derake."

About that time, another batch of seniors poured out into the antechamber of the testing room. He peaked inside to see only eleven attendees remaining. Remembering the seating arrangements, Ditch frowned.

"All seventy seniors were on the list, I thought. Where'd you come from?"

"I have a friend who signed up. I got her so drunk last night that she was too sick to come here, so I took her place, under her name."

"Some friend you are."

"No, it's not like that. I didn't get her drunk so she couldn't just attend, it was _after_ she grew ill that she confessed and told me to take her place, so she could be in the squadron. I've known her all of my life, so I think I can pass the interview from her point-of-view."

"Two questions: what makes you think that you can pass the simulator test and how do you know I won't turn you in."

"I'm the best, to the first. I know you won't turn me in because of whom you are."

"Hey, I can stand another one of Pikins's beatings if you turn _me_ in."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Attention Barnootsna seniors," called a voice over the intercom as the rest of the seniors came strolling out, "report to the sim room for your second trial."

Before Ditch could reply, she was whisked away with the crowd. He met up with Dimm and the others.

Seria said, "Is that your girlfriend?"

He blushed. "No, I just met her. She somehow knew that I was a junior."

"Probably saw you in detention sometime," stated Widmua. "I'll back you up on her not being your girlfriend. She's too short and alien-like for your interests."

Korb again raised an eyebrow, looking at Ditch then to the tall and most definitely human Dimmenos. "Don't even go there, Widmua."

"I wouldn't dream of it," acknowledged the Gotal. "We best get going if we're trying out for Sovereign Squadron."

Ditch's R2 unit, Mech, was already at the site. The red-and-white droid was top-of-the-line, fresh from his parent's mechanical production facility, hence the name 'Mech', on Thrabinathra, their so-called legit planet where a variant of Tibanna gas was produced with enhanced qualities. A ship could last 1.5 times longer with Thrabinathra gas in hyperspace than with Taloraan Tibanna gas.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, Ditch found himself face-to-face with the big behemoth Commander Flarrisk. "Name," he said briskly.

"Ditch Necco."

"I see you have a droid, so I assume you're flying either an X-wing or a Y-wing since it's not an R-7 series. Which is it: the extremely outdated bomber or the outmatched fighter?"

"I fly an X-wing, sir."

"Good." He handed a paper to him. "Because I hate Y-wings."

Ditch walked away examining the paper. It listed the roster and line-up, having Ditch on Widmua H'rogo's wing. The two would be part of a TIE Interceptor squadron going against a flight of X-wings for the first round. Then pilots would switch rolls so some others could man the New Republic fighters, until everyone had been through at least one round where they were on the Alliance's side.

Ditch had no problem keeping up with Widmua until they intercepted the Alliance pilots. The Gotal dropped below the fight, so the TIEs behind him could have a clear shot at the New Republic forces. He stuck close, but was utterly confused when H'rogo did a 180-degree spin so his nozzle was facing their squadron.

Ditch followed warily, but aimed slightly to the starboard in case he had to make a hard turn. It was only after the TIEs broke off from the X-wings that he understood why H'rogo would make such a move. The X-wings kept going straight, pitching down toward the two Interceptors. They overshoot and wound up directly in front of them. Widmua got a lock, and blew the wings off the closest X-wing, causing it to spin out of control and eventually explode.

Ditch caught on, laying his brackets over the X-wing in front of him, and blew it apart with his quad-linked blaster cannons. The other two set their power to rear shields, to prevent another shot from behind.

With the two X-wings concentrating on their two pursuers, they didn't bother seeing the ten Interceptors coming from above them. The frenzy of blaster bolts ripped the X-wing to shreds and everyone cried out in victory over his comms unit.

Ditch's hatch popped open automatically, and he understood that it was time to change ships. He found his way over to an X-wing cockpit, where Mech was already strapped in behind the canopy.

His wingman was Slyna Derake, which surprised him. Even if they did happen to get paired together, their scores would have been analyzed and Ditch would have been put on _her_ wing. Then he realized that just because she finished before he didn't mean that she had gotten a higher score. Then he thought that maybe scores didn't matter for wingman assignments.

He realized that his latter idea was correct when he began flying alongside her. She seemed aggravated that he was flying so slowly through the fleet of ships in their path. He decided that he wasn't going to let her down, and throttled up to 100-percent. They flew with such swiftness and speed that they past the other two X-wings with ease and left them behind in their wake.

"Green One, this is Two. Break port. Interceptors and bombers are incoming!"

He looked at his rear-view mirror but didn't see the other two X-wings breaking port. Reflexively, he broke port just in time for a barrage of blaster fire to pass him on his starboard side. He looked at his designation, and verified it with Mech.

_He_ was Green One.

"Three, Four, attack bombers. Two, on me, we're going after the Interceptors."

The four of them split up into two groups and went after their targets. Ditch and Slyna had four Interceptors coming straight at them and the medium transport next to them was powerless to help, because its four cannons had not yet powered up.

As the four Interceptors shot past, he and Slyna looped around the transport above them and came out in front of the Interceptors. "Go starboard then decelerate," he ordered as he went port, then decelerated to come up behind the Interceptors.

The four Imperial fighters smashed the second transport with their lasers before pulling up and heading off toward the bombers being pursued by Three and Four.

Ditch yawed until he was facing the TIEs and kicked up to full speed again. He fired twice, but the Imperial ships were already out of laser range. He switched to proton torpedoes and launched one in between two ships and detonated it.

"Three, you have company."

Four was already breaking off while Three kept on the bombers, attacking from behind. Approaching head-on, Four juked at the last second, allowing an energy bolt to soar underneath his ship and bounce harmlessly off the Corellian gunship that was supposed to be escorting the three transports.

Four aimed his nozzle slightly down and fired. The blast ripped through the Interceptor's starboard solar panel, but it kept on flying. Slyna was already past the three, heading for the last Interceptor on Three's tail. Ditch couldn't see it, but he heard the sound of the Interceptor igniting into flames and exploding. The final Interceptor was caught by Four's blasts and destroyed. This evened the odds.

"Scatter the bombers. They can't do as much damage by themselves."

The four of them each picked a target and went after them. Within thirty seconds, the groups were scattered across throughout the transport fleet. Ditch stuck on his target as well as he could. TIE Bombers were very slow, but somehow the pilot eluded him each time he fired.

He was blasting away at it, when he got curious about who was flying it. "TIE Bomber, identify yourself?"

"Ditch?"

"Seria?"

"Sorry."

She began slowing down, and Ditch found himself slowing down and ceasing fire. _Destroy her_, he thought. What was it that she had said? "Sorry, for what?"

"For getting you vaped."

Before he knew what was happening, she was on top of him. He looked up in horror as her bomb compartment opened and a concussion missile dropped right on top of him. He staggered for a moment trying to gain control, then his X-wing went unresponsive. Checking his damage board, he realized that his status was critical and that he should eject. But he didn't eject, even with Mech's warnings. He fought for control, trying to aim up at the TIE Bomber that was speeding away.

He made it partway up, just enough to see the bottom of the bomber's wings, then his last engine blew ignited, sending him off like a rocket straight for the nearest medium transport. "Mech, set the self-destruct!"

The droid explained that he was unable and that in twenty seconds, they would collide. Thinking fast, he keyed his comm. "Two, destroy me!"

"What?"

"This is One. I want you to destroy me."

"Why?"

"I'm on an intercept course for a transport and can't maneuver. Fifteen seconds and this mission is scrapped."

"I copy, One."

"See you on the outside, Mech." He grabbed the eject handle, but it was no good. Furthermore, his flight would never be able to destroy him in time. "So much for that idea." He looked back at the droid. "Mech, drain the fuel of my remaining proton torpedo and try to launch it. Leave just enough gas to self-detonate once its out."

The droid did so, and within ten seconds the torpedo was launched. He stared at the ETA at the transport: five seconds. He could have detonated the torpedo while it was still stationary in its hold, if it weren't for the fact that all X-wings were outfitted with an anti destruct mechanism while they were still carrying the torpedoes so they wouldn't malfunction and destroy the craft. Ditch then looked at the torpedo as it exited his ship and erupted a meter from it. The light, even it being fake, blinded Ditch for a second.

When he opened his eyes, the stars were gone and he was staring at the blank viewports of his X-wing canopy. He popped the hatch and it opened from the side.

Mech was already out and climbing down the sim pod, where Ditch joined him several seconds later. The four Interceptor pilots were waiting in chairs with cheerful but competitive looks on their brash faces. To the right of their seats lay a five-step ladder. He climbed up it and found himself in the elevated control room, where the simulation was monitored. The three humans in the seats facing comlink systems served as 'control', who gave pilots their briefings and additional support if needed. One was for the New Republic forces, another was for Imperial forces, and the leftmost was for any other groups that might be involved, such as pirates, mercenaries, or commercial pilots.

Against the wall were four seats filled by Commander Dopkin Flarrisk and his two aides.

"Hello, pilot," said the aide to the right Flarrisk. "Are you ready for your interview?"

He nodded hesitantly. "Yes, sir."

The man rose from his seat and directed him to a room off of the control room. Before entering, Ditch looked over at the sim pods through the transparisteel in front of the control men. The rest of the pilots from his skirmish were exiting and a new batch went in.

Necco then entered the room and took a seat. Across a small table from him sat the aide, the lieutenant who had past out the durasheets now carrying a new set. "Answer truthfully, and this should go smoothly. State your name and rank for the record."

"I'm Ditch Necco, flight . . . officer."

The man leaned in close and looked at his eyes. "No, you're Ditch Necco, Flight _Cadet_. You're a junior here at Barnootsna and you illegally signed up for this trial."

"What gave you that idea?"

The man peered into the mirror against the wall and nodded. A few seconds later, a section of the wall became outlined with some strange liquid that produce a hole. Out stepped Colonel Welf Pikins, Barnootsna Academy's commandant. "That is Necco, a junior. A troublemaker, I might add also."

The fat guy sat down on a seat and stared blankly at Ditch. "I'll take care of him. I'm so sorry to have bothered you."

The aide's comlink buzzed and something transferred to his datapad. "Ah, the trial results have just come in." He frowned at the pad and gave Ditch a disgusted look. "Well, you scored fifth place out of the seventy-one attendees, all seniors I might add. That is very impressive."

Pikins jaw sagged. "You are joking?"

The aide shrugged and read the rest of the information. "Seria Henarsi got first place, then Dimmenos Larkin, Korb Yua'lak, and Widmua H'rogo—all of the same flight, I might add. Sixth place was awarded to a Trandoshan by the name of Okley Ranhf and seventh to a Duhnoen named Degka Derake . . ."

"Enough. Send the top four to Flarrisk for examination, send Ranhf and Derake home with high honors, and _I'll _take care of Necco."

"Understood." The aide stood and saluted as Pikins dragged Ditch out of the room, back into the control room. The sim pods were all open and empty, the pilots sitting down, watching as the commandant escorted Ditch outside.

As he left, Ditch saw Widmua mouth the word, "Busted" and Slyna tensing up, probably wondering if she was next. Ditch shrugged at the crowd as Welf tugged on his ear and led him into the hallway.

"Detention every day for the break. Five hours of being my personal slave each day, and you have to take my daughter to the dance."

Just the thought of Jetti Pikins made him shiver. He could handle slavery and detention, but taking the commandant's daughter to the dance would not make him look good. Who knew what the girl planned on doing with him _after_ the dance? He tried to think of something to say to suck up to Welf, but the only thing that came to mind was himself out on the dance floor with Jetti as she stepped on his feet with her mass, squashing them.

He would be ruined, and he would never hear the end of it from Dae and Ramel. Not to mention the ever-torturing H'rogo, who would pass the word to the wrong places and get him in big trouble with some people.

Pikins took him outside where a car pulled up and threw the man half his size into the back with ease. The colonel followed him in, telling the driver to take him to his house.

"Where are we going?"

"You're going to ask Jetti out, remember?"

"Already, don't you think it's a little premature?"

"Nonsense, you always have time to do a good deed."

Ditch squirmed in his seat while the car began moving, propelled by its repulsarlifts toward the mansion atop a hill. It was a nice place, but he had no intention of moving in any time soon.

The car was halfway to the foot of the hill when a traffic jam stopped it. Ditch could jump out of the car, make a run for it . . . no, that would gain him nothing but _two_ dates with Jetti.

A hand knocking on the window halted the silence that was being kept. Pikins rolled down the window and said, "I don't have time for any questions . . . oh, it's you, get in but we don't have very much time to talk."

The door opened and Pikins scooted over, almost smashing Ditch into the other door. A familiar face hopped in, just as the car began moving again.

The man regarded Ditch. "Hello, Flight Cadet . . . Necco, is it?"

"Yes, sir. If I remember correctly, you are Commander Cal Soner."

"Cale, actually. I get that a lot, trust me. So, Ditch, what brings you to Colonel Welf Pikins car? Nothing serious, I hope."

Welf nodded approvingly to Ditch, so he replied, "No commitments, yet, but if Pikins gets his way, I'll be his son-in-law by tomorrow."

That thought, which had occurred to him only now, made him feel like hanging himself by his underwear.

"He's exaggerating, I assure you. He is stopping by to ask Jetti to the dance, isn't that wonderful?"

Soner tried to smile. "Of course, your daughter's such a lovely young lady, it's no wonder she doesn't have ten dates already."

"My thoughts, exactly."

Their car arrived at the front gate ten minutes later. Ditch braced himself as the three entered the front door of the less-than-modern homestead. He looked around, finding the place quite nice, far better than the barracks on campus. It was practically a dream home, and he didn't want to admit it, but he sort of liked it.

After going through the door, he found himself in a corridor with entryways to the living room and kitchen/dining room with a stairway directly in front of him. The stairs were made from wood and sparkled from a wax job. The rail to the left of the stairs was equally shiny, with a golden rope sagging along its length. It was fit for a king, he knew, after seeing the expansive living room with more items than he knew what to do with.

Then the 'princess' stumbled down the stairs, half tripping over her flowing dress. Ditch winced at the hideous sight, but found himself involuntarily stepping forward and taking her hand, so she wouldn't fall again.

Showing his pleasure, Pikins smiled and patted Necco on the back. "Come on Cale, I'll fix you some Veneyian wine and grash hearts. Kids, the living room is yours. Feel free to use the fireplace, love seat, or whatever takes your fancy."

As Pikins trailed off with Soner in his wake, the commander turned and ran a finger across his throat, smiling. Then they were gone, vanished into the kitchen for the alcoholic beverages and tasty grash hearts which were considered a delicacy on Gaffeo 2.

Jetti just stared at him for a moment before saying, "Thank you, kind Ditch."

He nodded. "My pleasure, . . . beautiful Jetti," he said, trying to sound as convincing as she did, but the way he said it implied that she wasn't that impressed.

She led him into the living room and sat him down on the couch next to her. "So, Ditchy, what brings you here?"

To avoid stretching things out and making himself even more nervous than he already was, he said, "Jetti, I know this may sound a little strange, but just hear me out for a moment. I would really like for you to come to the dance tomorrow night with me."

She smiled broadly and leapt at him, trying to wrap her arms around him. He held her back, dumbfounded by her action. "Um, now is not the time."

She nodded, returning to her seat next to him. "I guess daddy wouldn't be too happy. Nonetheless, this is great news!" She blew a strand of hair off of her face and said, "Ditch, I've always had strong feelings for you. I just never thought the feeling would be mutual." She laid her head in his shoulder despite his nervousness. "I can see it now, Necco. You and me, getting assigned to a squadron together. We could take to the stars and defend the galaxy together, you and I."

He squirmed. "Jetti, it's just a dance. We'll take it from there."

"Oh, but I'm never going to let go of you now that I have you, Ditch."

He thought about getting up and walking out the door, but that would just break her heart and Pikins's hand as he slapped him the next day. He remained still as she relaxed and he tensed.

After about five minutes, she fell asleep on his shoulder.

He grabbed a pillow and, very gently, slid it under her head and rose. She remained silent and he leapt out of the living room as fast as he could. He ran through the kitchen and dining room, opening the transparisteel door to the patio where Pikins and Soner were conversing. The older man looked up at him. "Where is she?"

"She fell asleep on the couch, sir," Ditch stated as he sat next to the two senior officers.

He grinned. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. If Jetti has fun and she wants to go out with you again, you don't have to be my slave or go to detention. But as soon as the dates are broken off, your reporting to my office every morning at 0400 hours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hey, and you don't have to call me sir if we not on the campus unless I give an order or you break up with Jetti."

"All right Welf, but what if she breaks up with _me_?"

"Who breaks up with who isn't important right now, Ditch."

Soner tried to conceal the grin he bore, obviously amused.

"Ah, commander, I trust you'll keep quiet about this whole thing. Can you promise me not to tell anyone?"

Soner nodded. "I swear it on my commission."

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Captain Rugh overlooked the wreckage from the battle that had occurred in the Sinagig System only a few days before. After his superior, Admiral Shrok Bandanor, had sent his fleet through the system where the warlord Fiell had lurked, they arrived at their destination: a world that served as Bandanor's private getaway, and now his headquarters after the destruction of his base Hendrix by an unknown pirate gang.

After settling in, Rugh had taken his ship back to Sinagig to recover the missing probe that contained to-die-for information. He had to admit, sending the probe out in the first place was a quite stupid idea but there was nothing he could do about that now. After arriving, he discovered that he was being tracked by the same pirate gang encountered at Hendrix and former Imperial officers, now turned rogue. The rogues and pirates battled it out, until _Vigilante_ attacked at the last moment and subjugated both parties, gaining victory after very little work.

The torpedo officer, an ensign of a young age and strong build, walked up to the captain and saluted. "Sir," began the man who had launched the probe, "I'm pleased to inform you that our shuttle has succeeded in capturing the probe and is bringing it back to us. The bad news is that our crew is no longer aboard. The shuttle was captured by rogue officers and is holding the probe for ransom, so to speak. There's a bid: ten thousand credits are the starting price. Our competitor is an Unngrae Defense Fleet lieutenant colonel named Rin Dinjin, held hostage aboard the ship."

Rugh frowned. "UDF officer held hostage, bidding on captors' cargo? How do you know this?"

"I have a friend aboard the ship and thought that it would be best for me to tell you, since I launched the probe . . ." His voice trailed off.

Rugh disregarded him, watching as a labor droid floated back in _Vigilante_'s airlock with a piece of the pirate assault frigate. "It bothers me that pirates have just as much firepower as us."

The junior officer nodded, leaving his side a minute later.

That was not what Rugh was really bothered by, though. Warlord Fiell, back in the day, had a significant force for offensive purposes. He began his conquest for the galaxy, Coruscant in particular, in the Mid Rim just after the world was surrendered and the Krytos virus unleashed on the populace. The Rebel Alliance was weak at that time and it was the perfect time for someone to strike.

Warlord Zsinj blinked first, attacking several worlds before and after the claiming of Coruscant. Fiell had followed him from behind, sabotaging both Zsinj and the New Republic. After Zsinj was repulsed, the New Republic celebrated, leaving many crucial targets open. In one smooth sweep, Warlord Fiell could have taken important worlds near the Core such as Kuat, Bilbringi and Thyferra, taking away the Rebels' major shipyards and bacta production facilities, but instead Fiell went out on a vendetta. A single rebel agent had made him so mad that the crazy old man had sacrificed his first super star destroyer. Rugh didn't know all the details, but rumor had it that Fiell's ship was infiltrated by rebel saboteurs and destroyed from the inside out.

The fact that the old man had been so insane and foolish was what made Rugh and some of his officers, such as Commander Gonoe, jump ship and hook up with Bandanor in the first place.

"Raise the bid to twenty thousand credits."

Rin Dinjin heard the spokesman aboard the star destroyer make his offer. The UDF officer had no money to offer on him but he promised the men holding him captive a full reimbursement once he arrived on Unngrae. Then surely Major Agerd would pay for the probe, seeing how badly the warlords wanted it.

"Twenty-five thousand credits."

He was in a chair behind the cockpit, watched by two stormtroopers with their blasters ready. He was not chained, but a single wrap of rope went around him, pinning him to the chair. The stormtroopers did not look hostile, but their helmets concealed their expressions. "I can promise everyone aboard full asylum with the New Republic forces."

The captain of the ship looked through the open cockpit hatchway. "You are in a position to do that, even though you are not the New Republic?"

"The Unngrae Defense Fleet is not the New Republic, but they are a section of it. I'm a lieutenant colonel in the UDF, making me a lieutenant colonel in the New Republic. I have authority over New Republic officers under my rank, so I have just as much power as any other New Republic colonel."

"What makes you think we want asylum with the New Republic? We are loyal Imperial officers."

Dinjin glanced around, eyeing all of the guards and officers. "You seem to be just another group working for a warlord."

"No, we hate the warlords," the man began, leaving his chair and sitting back in the main chamber of the ship. "The warlords are petty criminals, but we serve what used to be the Empire."

"I never knew there was a difference. I though that after Coruscant, the Empire had been defeated. I've been told that the only Imperial forces left are working for warlords, calling themselves the Empire."

"No, we don't just call ourselves the Empire. After Coruscant was taken, Isard practically became a warlord. She blockaded Thyferra without the approval of the Imperial forces still remaining in the Mid and Outer Rims. I hate to tell you, but your New Republic has lied to everyone. It is just as corrupt as the Old Republic, and is already collapsing without its populace realizing it."

"You lie."

The man looked at him carefully, shrugged, and remained quiet.

Captain Rugh grimaced. "Thirty thousand Imperial credits."

His officers complied, not questioning his actions. A few minutes late, the shuttle called back, stating that Dinjin had raised it to thirty-five thousand. Rugh slammed a fist down on a control board, sending sparks into the air. The board was probably ruined, but he didn't care.

He could not believe that he was being led into a trap by the crew of one of his own shuttles. When Admiral Bandanor discovered what he had been up to, Rugh would be discharged, killed, demoted, or worse. Fiell would have killed him in a hideous way, probably more painful than anyone could ever imagine. But Bandanor was different. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as ruthless as Rugh's former superior. He doubted it though; Bandanor had a reputation to send out bounty hunters to toy with his enemies. The thoughts of some alien being running around on his ship like a phantom, slitting his friend's throats in their sleep, made Rugh shiver.

Commander Gonoe waltzed up to him. "If we up the ante anymore, our funds will be depleted and we'll have to get Admiral Bandanor to give us some more. Unless you want to make him very displeased, I suggest that you think of an alternate course of action."

Rugh nodded carefully. He couldn't risk Bandanor knowing that he had lost the probe, or that he even _had_ the probe in the first place. "Get in range and lock a tractor beam onto them."

"Should we not just destroy the shuttle?"

"No, if we do, we'll never know if it was copied."

It could have been copied without showing any signs, of course, but that would take a long time. The shuttle had been lost only ten hours before, not enough time to do a thorough replica of its "brain." He also needed the probe for something personal, another reason not to destroy it. A third would be that it contained a UDC officer and he didn't need the New Republic gunning for him, too. He already had enough enemies to go around; he didn't need anymore.

A few seconds later, the ship began to move toward the moon Harvest. They moved as close to the mass as they could without entering its atmosphere. They could not see the ship visually, but their scanners and sensors gave _Vigilante_'s officers an approximate location.

It took another minute before Rugh could actually see the shuttle. Gonoe explained that the tractor beam would be locked on in about twenty seconds. Taking that brief time to rest, the captain went to his command chair and sat, waiting patiently. He smiled as the defenseless shuttle began to gradually float closer to him, sucked by the giant piece of machinery that gripped it.

Then Rugh left the bridge, heading for the landing bay. The shuttle would be pulled into the main bay, which was larger than the smaller bay used for private ships and vehicles. The shuttle on its way in would normally be placed in the smaller bay, but the tractor beam was hooked up to the larger for a more smooth entrance, without the worry of collision.

Rugh opened the door leading into the landing bay and stepped into the turbolift that would lead him down to his probe. It was a fast transition, but not as fast as it should have been. The battle had caused some minor difficulties to the turbolift mainframe, making the lifts only slightly slower. It was nothing of concern for the time being, but Rugh made a mental note to get his technicians to look at it later.

The boarding TIE Bomber had already blasted its way through the shuttle hatch, and a group of stormtroopers waited outside in dual-file. The officer to the side of them turned around and saluted Rugh. "I'm sorry sir. I did not receive word of your appearance."

"It's all right, just continue as planned."

The first four stormtroopers went in first, followed by two more a few seconds later. The elite guards were short in supply, but Rugh managed to place thirty of them aboard the ship, far fewer than what was normal for an Imperial Star Destroyer back in Palpatine's days. Of course, there was nothing normal about the way things were done anymore.

A half-minute later, the troopers returned with two men in Imperial pilot dress uniforms. "These two were the only on board, sir."

The officer froze, eyeing the two. "Check the cargo and find that probe." He glanced at Rugh, then back again. "Where's this UDF officer, Rin Dinjin?"

One of them, the pilot, looked up and smiled. "Who, sir?"

Rugh muttered a curse under his breath. "This is the wrong ship. We've been had."

"Sir, we have a live one!"

Two other stormtroopers dragged a Barabel female from the hold, wearing a UDF uniform. "I'm guessing," began the officer in charge of the operation, "that _it_ is not the lieutenant colonel by the name of Rin Dinjin."

The shuttle carrying the real cargo had jumped out of the system as soon as _Vigilante_ began her approach. They were escorted back to the civilian refueller station twenty hours from Unngrae by nine TIE Defenders and three A-wings. Dinjin hated the idea of leaving Arina Veyanol in _Vigilante_'s hands, but there was nothing that could be done about that. He had no intention of slapping medals on the crew of the shuttle, but he wasn't going to condemn them just yet. He still remained in the chair, but the shuttle's captain had authorized the guards to remove the rope.

He was relatively uninjured by his captors, yet he remained doubtful that would remain the case for the duration of their trip. He requested a blaster just in case something happened aboard the station and the Imperial forces denied him any weapon.

As for the three A-wings from his squadron, they were to dock and refuel at a bay on the opposite side of the station. He understood why: if his friends were there, they may attempt to free him. For some reason, the Empire still needed him. Most likely to pay their reward, he knew.

The ship's captain left the shuttle to pay the docking fees, taking a stormtrooper and Dinjin with him. Taking only one guard was a risk, unless the captain had underestimated either his abilities or some fighting skills of his own.

The ship was almost ancient, looking similar to something from a history holo of stations millennia ago. It only contained gravity by constantly rotating on its axis. The docking bays, however, were the only sections—not including the structure shafts—that did not contain gravity. The shuttle had to park in the bay and wait for a taxi-like transport to pick them up and take them to the areas containing gravity.

After the captain who would not state his name had paid the docking fees and fueling charge, the three of them took a little walk. The station was not overly large, yet it was not as small as some that Dinjin had seen. It was about the size of a Mon Calamari star cruiser, maybe a bit bigger but Dinjin could not tell.

The captain led Dinjin and the guard to a place that he guessed was midway through the ship. It was an eating area, a cafeteria. The guard retrieved some food for them, while the captain seated Rin and himself. "I hope you like the local food, because that is all we have."

He nodded. "What are we doing here? The refuellers should be finished in a few minutes."

"Never mind that; we're not in a big hurry. Captain Rugh will not be foolish enough to attack us aboard this station."

"Captain Rugh, huh? I take it that _he's_ the one in that star destroyer itching to get his hands on whatever it is we're carrying." After the man nodded again, Dinjin asked, "So, who are you and what is it you want with that probe?"

By that time the guard had come back, and was gesturing that the captain shouldn't answer.

"My name is Gytr Vopos, captain of the downed star destroyer _Exodus. _Warlord Fiell and his gang destroyed my ship at Sinagig, but Captain Rugh managed to send off a probe in our direction. In case you're wondering, after the UDF ship entered the area and tried to take the probe, I sent a flight of my TIE Defenders to drive it away, losing some of them in the process. I then realized, for I had abandoned the ship and made it to Harvest before it blew, that the probe would not be safe. I stowed it away aboard my shuttle and waited for Rugh to come back. I believe you know the rest of the story."

"Not in detail, but I have an idea."

"I have no idea what the probe is for, but since Rugh wanted it so bad, I figured it would be better in your hands than his."

"The lesser of the two evils."

"Not exactly. Captain Rugh is a dear friend of mine and I will gladly do anything for him. I know, however, that his warlord, Shrok Bandanor, is allied with Warlord Fiell. If the probe gets in either one of their hands . . . well, I actually don't know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Strange reasoning."

Dinjin looked down at his tray, which was covered in Duhnoen catri, a delicacy from the planet they orbited. He never liked the stuff, but he ate it anyway since Vopos had spent money on it. The other two at the table were also eating, obviously cherishing the taste. Dinjin liked Core food the best, especially from Alderaan. When he was a child living on a nearby world, his father would take him to Alderaan on business trips sometimes.

One day, while Dinjin sat at home, waiting, his father never came back from his business trip. For five years, his mother told him that he was okay, but Dinjin never believed it. He never heard from his father again, knowing that he wouldn't, with his mother still in denial. She went insane after two more years of torture.

He shoved the past away, instead trying to see the near future. He could not see anything.

As he ate, a tingling sensation went up his spine. He realized that he was actually eating with the enemy, letting down his guard against the people that had destroyed the world that his father had been on.

_No, not the enemy, just some people on opposite sides of a conflict_. That thought had never occurred to him before then. For once, he thought of the Empire as not his enemy, but the enemy of his enemy, making them allies for the time being.

A fourth tray slammed down on the seat next to him, and he looked up to see a tall man, dressed in an Imperial pilot's uniform. The man sat next to him, and slapped his back _hard_.

Dinjin fell forward, grabbing the table with his hands so he wouldn't be impaled on it. The man hit him just below the shoulder, giving him a dead arm. "You killed one of my best pilots."

"Sorry, but you were shooting at me."

"Like hell I was!" The man shook his head fiercely. "You didn't even let us hail you. You came at us, unprovoked, and starting firing!"

"That's usually what I do when I see Imps."

He stood up and smashed his hand into the table, causing it to split. Then he pushed Dinjin's tray off the table, pulling a blaster from his holster.

Rin Dinjin knew that was illegal and could land the man in the brig, but on reflex he pulled a pocked knife concealed in his vest pocket and held it to the man's heart. "Looks as if we have a stand-off here."

Disregarding him, the Imperial pilot snatched the knife with his free hand in one sweep. Shocked, Rin held up his hands. "You can't kill me here."

The man nodded, putting the blaster into his holster and the knife into his belt. He sat down and began eating. "Why would I kill you? I'm not a cold-blooded murderer like you."

That struck Dinjin hard, partly because he saw a little bit of truth in it, a _lot_ of truth.

"Are you two finished with your senseless bickering? Why don't we act like the civilized men we are?"

Hearing that from an Imperial officer almost hurt Rin. He knew that he had fired on the TIE Defender only because it was approaching him and they had attacked the last New Republic ships that had came in-system.

"Commander, why don't you introduce yourself to Lieutenant Colonel Rin Dinjin, here?"

The man nodded. "I'm Commander Erato, in charge of Beta Squadron aboard the _Exodus_. Well I _used _to command the squadron, but it's not really considered a squadron anymore."

Dinjin knew Beta had lost some pilots and ships, but he had eight MIAs, possibly killed-in-action. Whether or not Erato realized that, Dinjin's losses were far greater. "I can see we're going to be friends."

Vopos half-laughed. "On the contrary, Colonel. Without Commander Erato's insistence on sparing you and bringing you back to Unngrae, you would still be down on Harvest. He's your best friend at this table right now."

Rin glanced around, shooting Erato with a painful scowl. "If he was really my friend, he wouldn't have wasted my food."

The man next to him subtly grabbed one of his catris and tossed it to Dinjin. "Thanks."

Vopos finished his meal first, with the exception of Dinjin who had only one bite's worth of food. "Colonel, will you come for a walk with me?"

Dinjin followed the Imperial captain at a distance, just in case the man still has something up his sleeve. He eyed a waiter pushing a cart of food and dirty dishes, on separate shelves. The waiter casually went past Vopos, giving Dinjin a better glance at the tray. He saw exactly what he wanted on it. Half-faking, he slipped his food in front of the rear wheel and braced himself. The wheel slammed into his foot and rolled over his toes, making him want to collapse. He did, making sure that it was in the cart's direction. He stumbled over it, crashing it down and sending Rin hurling at the waiter.

The waiter dropped with a thud, but was uninjured by the move. Acting fast, Rin grabbed a cutting knife off the edge of the table before it could slide off. After he tucked it away in his left boot, concealing it with his pant leg, he crawled to the wall and grabbed onto the corner to help him up. He offered the waiter his hand and helped him to his feet also.

"How clumsy of me. I'm terribly sorry." He let his UDF badge show, to prevent any conflict.

The waiter tugged at his jacked to straighten out the wrinkles and huffed irritably. "No problem."

Another waiter came up to help him and Dinjin walked away. He heard the first waiter say, "Republic pigs. They think they can do whatever they want."

And, "What else is new?" from his comrade.

Rin gulped. _Does the populace hate us as much as the Empire_?

He caught up to Vopos quickly, who was waiting just outside of the cafeteria. "Trouble?"

"Just a fall."

With no more questions asked, Vopos led Dinjin back to the ship where the refuellers were unhooking their hoses already. "That can't be right," said the captain, "the fuel shouldn't be transferred completely yet. It will take another fifteen minutes at the least."

Dinjin nodded, glancing out the viewport to the stationary hangar, which appeared to be rotating to his eyes. The refueller trucks were already pulling away and the personnel were coming inside the station. Three Duhnoens entered the door nearest to them, and Vopos went over to demand an answer.

"Why have you stopped pumping into my shuttle?"

The lead Duhnoen regarded him with a polite bow, accompanied by a smile, which was common among their people. "I'm sorry, but that is all the fuel we can afford to outfit you with. Times are very hard on this station, being under the UDF's jurisdiction."

"What does the Republic have to do with fuel?" Dinjin demanded, nearing them.

"Unngrae has put a sales tax on the fuel we sell here. It is quite pricey and if we gave you any more we would go bankrupt."

"We'll pay extra."

"That would be nice, but the Republic worlds send representatives to take the majority of the fuel so we can only sell a small fraction of it. I'm sorry, but we have to do this if everyone is to get some."

The trio bowed again and left.

Dinjin hadn't seen any sign of poverty or depression aboard the station, except for the disgruntled waiters and the crowd of spectators watching him. Obviously, the Duhnoens had not seen his insignia. But he was never told of any high sales taxes or taking of fuel by the New Republic.

Dinjin had no problem getting fuel before, but that was most likely because the New Republic had forced the Duhnoens to provide all the UDF with anything they wanted.

"Now I know why you had the A-wings park on the other side of the station," he said calmly. "I don't blame you."

"Very good, colonel."

Dinjin looked back out the viewport, as another refueller hauled fuel to another craft. "You think we have enough fuel to get to Unngrae?"

"Probably, but I'm not sure. That depends on when they _started_ refueling. Unngrae is only . . . what, twenty hours away?"

Dinjin nodded. "About that much."

The refueller truck stayed for only thirty more seconds, before pulling away to the next ship. "If that is how much we got, however, we should be there within the month."

"Let's get aboard and find out."

They took a taxi car back to the shuttle, where the pilots were already locking in the coordinates to Unngrae. "Sir!" called the copilot. "The refuellers came just a minute ago and they're already finished! Look at the chart."

The two glanced at the map, seeing Duhnoe and Unngrae with a red line indicating their course in between. The line stopped halfway in between the two worlds. The ETA was around two weeks. In that time, a war could be fought and lost.

Vopos slammed his hand on the chart, causing it to flicker for a moment. "Get us another ship!"

"No good, sir. We've already contacted the freighters and transports. Not a single one of them is going toward Unngrae."

While Vopos chatted, Dinjin rerouted the ship and typed in a new destination. "Captain. There's a system closer to us. Gaffeo is under the New Republic's control, and there is a small force there. Mostly Military police but it is something. There's a small base on the primary's second moon and I know a few people there."

"How long will it take us to get to Gaffeo?"

"ETA is one standard week. It's better than two."

Vopos nodded enthusiastically, then he grabbed the comlink. "Erato, get your ass back to your fighter on-the-double. We're pulling out."

"Affirmative."

Dinjin was allowed to contact Drikaletti Tuen and tell him what was going on. After much debate, Tuen insisted on staying to guard the shuttle even though they were fully fueled. Rin didn't like angry Twi'leks so he decided to go along with him. Everyone stationed aboard the shuttle rendezvoused back there and once they had clearance, they pulled away from the station and entered hyperspace for ten hours.

Dinjin was just glad that he had not told Vopos that the majority of the force on Gaffeo 2 was made up of trainees and kids.

Vopos leaned against the bulkhead next to him. "Do you really think we'll find sanction there, at Gaffeo 2, even though I'm an Imperial officer?"

Thinking of the well-known anti-Imperialist colonel Welf Pikins made him smile weakly. "I'm sure of it."

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"I look like a fag," an irritated Ditch commented.

Dae smiled broadly, who was obviously amused by the whole Jetti-situation. "No, you look like a pimp."

That brought a smile to Ditch's face. He couldn't remember smiling that whole week, for there was no reason to. He was terrified of Jetti Pikins and didn't really care about being somebody's slave for a while. Well, Welf Pikins wasn't exactly just somebody, though. He could only think of what the colonel would do to him in his worst nightmares. The man probably had some dishes to be cleaned and files to organize, his thoughts told him. His dreams told him: Welf is going to make him be his orderly, bathing and changing his superior like a baby, bringing him food whenever, and cleaning toilets. He had no idea which was more correct, his thoughts or his dream, but he wasn't about to find out if he could avoid the situation entirely.

Ditch buttoned up his suit, a tuxedo-like outfit that Dae had gone out and rented with his own money for this "special" event, and glanced at the Duros. "Hey, have you seen Ramel lately?"

Dae shook his head solemnly. "I told him to rent a holocam for tonight, but that was hours ago. He mentioned something about Pikins wanting to see him."

He could guess why the Rodian and Dae would want a camera for that night, but he didn't say anything that could hurt the sensitive duo's feelings. "Do you think it's something bad?"

"No, Jetti's . . . sweet."

"No, I mean about Ramel."

"Yeah, I'm just messing with you. I'm sure Vorax is all right, and if he isn't . . . well too bad. Nothing we can do about it. How's Jicks?"

"He went out to get some flowers. He'll be back in about an hour."

"Um, Jicks has a date?"

"No, but he's keeping his options open."

Ditch finished getting his suit on and looked at the clock. Still another ninety minutes before it was time to pick up Jetti. He briefly wondered what she would be wearing, but when he tried imagining her in different dresses, all that he saw was her showing up in a night gown.

Dae was dressed in a Duros suit, one that Ditch knew to be quite popular according to most native of Duro. Even the Neimoidians, descendants of Duros colonists on Neimoidia, found the suits to be attractive. Of course, Ditch and everybody who isn't from the Corellian Sector found the costume a bit colorful. Dae too, although he didn't say anything, thought Ditch's monkey suit was rather odd.

The two left their Jicks and Ditch's room, making their way to the lobby where Dopkin Flarrisk was once again addressing the crowd. He announced that everyone did a good job at the interview the week before but he had picked four pilots, all from the same training flight, to accompany him back to Unngrae before heading for their permanent base in another corner of the galaxy. The foursome that was picked, obviously, was Dimm Larkin, Seria Henarsi, Widmua H'rogo, and Korb Yua'lak.

Ditch was happy for them, but he wasn't anxious about them leaving. He had sort of befriended them in the last year and really didn't want them to go. But he knew that everyone had to go sometime, and that he would lose a lot of friends this year and next. He was prepared to never see them again, but he could never be prepared for the reason that he couldn't see most of them again. No one could be prepared for that.

The four went on stage to accept their _official_ insignia's and tags. They were assigned together as Two Flight in Sovereign Squadron, promoting Dimmenos to lieutenant and putting him in command.

Dae put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Tonight's the night, man. You better while you still can and not married to Jetti."

"That's not even funny. Besides, I can't just leave her by herself, that would be cruel and mean."

"We'll think of something."

Ditch nodded as the four came down from the stage and walked toward the door, accepting backslaps and the congratulations with ease. They looked as if they would be happy just to get out of there and get some alcohol in their system. Once the crowd had cleared out, Ditch spotted Dopkin Flarrisk speaking with Cale Soner. He had been wanting to talk to Soner for some time now, but he never found the chance. "You go on ahead, and I'll be a few minutes."

Dae nodded and headed off to the rec room, where there was supposed to be some post graduation events for the seniors.

Ditch went up to the stage where Soner and Flarrisk were sitting. Soner looked up. "Oh, Necco, right? We were just discussing the sim results. I must commend you on your score."

"It's unofficial."

"I know, Pikins told me the whole story after you left last week."

"I was trying to find you and speak with you, but . . ."

"Yes, I left Gaffeo 2 for a while. I had a little business to take care of, and I just made it back late last night."

Ditch was about to ask: 'What kind of business,' but he didn't want to intrude. Soner got up, shook Ditch's hand, began walking off the stage.

"We'll talk later, all right?"

There was no time to argue, so he agreed and watched as Soner left the building. Flarrisk asked Ditch to sit down, so he did.

"I was monitoring your simulation. Impressive flying out there, Necco. Where'd you learn to pilot like that? Also, that was good thinking: destroying your own ship to save the crew and cargo of the transport. It took down your score a bunch, for killing you, but it improved the overall mission score for your team. Of course, I would never condone an action like that, but since it was just a simulator it's all right. I must tell you that if you _didn't_ destroy your craft, you would have gotten second place and I would have a dilemma on whether I should see about you graduating a year earlier. Thanks for making it easy on me."

Ditch understood his logic. No one wanted to defy Pikins, and if his score had been higher, Flarrisk would have to go against Pikins's wishes in order to not break the law.

"Your welcome, sir. But if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."

"Why are you young people always in such a hurry? Okay, Cadet, you may go but I'm not finished talking with you yet."

Ditch left without saying anything more and went to the rec room where Dae and some other cadets were chatting around the table. "Any sign of Ramel yet."

"No, I guess he'll just meet us there."

A familiar face was sitting next to Dae, deep into conversation. Slyna Derake looked up and smiled at him. "Hi, Ditch. It's been a week and you still haven't called."

He laughed and sat down next to her. "You said it yourself: You're not my type."

She giggled and nodded. "I had almost forgotten about that." She slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Degka, my friend, couldn't make the squadron because you ordered me to destroy you. Can you believe that they were monitoring our comms, and just because I accepted the order took her score down a bunch?"

"Well for what it's worth, you . . . Degka did extremely well for being sick, laying on a bed in her quarters."

"Yes, I believe she did. I see you know Dae Bootra, so I won't bother introducing him to you."

"And you know Ditch, so _I _won't bother with any introductions either."

Slyna, Ditch, and Dae talked for a little while, but soon Dae ran off to do something, but he could not say what. Slyna threw Ditch a smile. "We're finally alone."

"Alone, except for them." Ditch pointed around the room at the juniors and seniors who were speaking less than three feet away. "But I see your point."

Widmua, with his sensitive hearing, picked up on the conversation and left his booth to take Dae's place. "Ditch, you can't be hitting on her _too_."

Ditch shoved the Gotal away, embarrassed by the comment. "Why don't you climb back into whatever hole you were born in, H'rogo?"

"Please don't be hurtful, my friend."

Slyna nodded thoughtfully. "Don't pay any attention to him. So Ditch, do you want to dance?"

Ditch thought for a moment. He found Slyna slightly attractive, even though she was not exactly human—but close enough—and he did feel like dancing . . . "There's no music," he replied with a frown.

With a clap of her hands, she got the DJ's attention and the Ithorian immediately began playing some slow-dance music. Slyna got up and said, "I only ask because there's someone across the table who's been staring in your direction for the past ten minutes."

His face turned blood red as Slyna offered her hand. The hand was not toward him, but in the other direction. "Shall we?"

Widmua grinned and stood up, accepting the offered hand. "Let's go, hot stuff."

Then the two of them disappeared into the small crowd of dancers, leaving Ditch alone. He took a sip of his drink and slowly cranked his head around to where Slyna had indicated. Before he could turn his head all the way around, he realized that no one was looking at him from the other side of the table. A bunch of seniors were talking about the good and bad times that they had been through. A toast from a human that he did not know was directed toward the trio directly opposite of him: Dimmenos, Seria, and Korb. He wondered for a moment if that was the source or if it was just a ploy Slyna had come up with to trick him.

Then directly past them was another familiar face, leaning up against the door. If the door broke off its hinges and fell down, Ditch wouldn't be surprised in the least bit. Acting out of politeness, Ditch finished his drink speedily and made his way over to her. "Hello, Jetti."

"Ditch, who was that you were talking to?"

"Just some friends," he assured her.

"The dance is starting in a half-hour. I promised to help set up. You want to help, too?"

Later that night, after the dance had started and Ditch finished helping with setting things up, he reluctantly asked Jetti to dance with hidden revulsion. He tried to smile as if he were happy as they joined each other out on the dance floor.

Unlike the pre-dance at the rec room, this floor was filled with dancers, all having a great time except for Ditch Necco. The one thing that he really liked about the dance was that it took place in the governor's mansion who had been more than happy to allow the cadets to roam freely about his 'palace' for the night. It _did_ remind him of a palace, being six stories and having fifty-eight bedrooms for the governor's prized guests.

As they joined, Ditch discovered that Jetti wasn't a bad dancer at all. In fact, he could hardly keep up with her. He still felt really uneasy, but he gradually fell in step and found himself having a tiny bit of fun. After two songs, they continued to dance. She wouldn't let go of him, quite literally. The first two were very slow dances whereas the third picked up a bit of pace. Ditch wasn't a very good dancer, he would be the first to admit, so when the crowd cleared out, giving them some space he felt nauseous. They were eyeing Jetti with awe and Ditch with humorous faces. In the background he could see Ramel enter the room, immediately raising the rented camera and taping Ditch.

"Way to go, Necco," Dae said in his low and funny Duros voice.

Ramel could hardly keep the camera steady, laughing hard at Ditch's moves. He had a feeling that the holo would be on display in the rec room for months.

When the song finally ended after what seemed to be hours, Ditch crawled over to a table and slammed his head against it. Jetti was next to him a few moments later, carrying two drinks. "Thanks, I can use one of these," he admitted.

"I'm sorry to embarrass you."

He answered truthfully when he said, "Oh, no, it's not you, Jetti. _I_ looked like a fool up there, while you looked fine. I was doing some weird moves, not really knowing _what_ to do. You followed perfectly to the beat."

"Well, my father said that dance lessons would come in handy someday. Thank you, but I'm not so sure you're being honest."

"I'm being one-hundred percent honest," he assured her.

"Oh!" She pointed at another table. "I have to go talk to my friends. I'll be back in a minute." Then she was gone, racing off to sit with some other people.

Ditch felt relieved as she walked away.

Dae, Ramel, and Jicks sat down next to him a few moments later with big grins on their faces. "You are so hilarious," Jicks said.

"Maybe you can teach me that dance," began Dae, "whatever the hell it was."

"I'm not so sure myself, Dae. But at the time, it seemed pretty fun . . . until I realized everyone was laughing at _me_."

"People can be cruel," Ramel said and shook his head in disgust, "especially humans."

For the first time, Ditch saw Ramel's outfit and about fell out of his seat, laughing. He could see his own reflection—and a cadet scratching his crotch in the background—just by looking at Ramel's jacket.

"That's a nice jacket, Ramel!"

"Thanks for proving my point," Ramel huffed. He rose from his seat and walked off like he was actually mad. A few seconds later, over at the bar, Ramel walked up to some female cadet and started talking. When Ramel came back, he was favoring his left cheek by rubbing it with his hand. "She's a great slapper."

"Thanks for the tip." Jicks smiled and rose also, bringing his flowers over to the cadet at the bar. She was quite hot, Ditch decided after seeing her face as she turned to punch Jicks in the stomach. Yughey collapsed back in his seat. "She hits pretty hard too. Ditch, your turn."

"No . . . I have other interests."

Dae nodded. "Lover boy can't impress someone by hitting on someone else," he explained in a matter-of-fact statement.

Ramel smiled. "I told her that she had a nice ass. See what happens when you try to compliment a human?"

"_You said that!"_ demanded Ditch, shocked by the comment.

"I asked her if she was free tonight," explained Jicks. "I think she was aiming a bit lower, but hit my stomach when I ducked."

"All right Dae, your turn then, since Ditch doesn't want to play."

Dae shook his head. "I usually stick to my own species."

Then the Duros was on his feet, confronting the woman. She smiled at him and, surprisingly, ordered him a drink. He stayed there for about five minutes, then came back with a big frown on his face. A single tear came to his eye and he took his seat. He had a very disappointed look on his face.

"What happened?" asked Ditch. "I thought you stuck to your own species?"

"I said I _usually_ stuck to me own species. She said she wanted to take me home but couldn't because I was Duros." Dae shook his head fiercely and clenched his fists. "_Damn_, I wish I were human!"

"Why would you want to be a murderous, backstabbing, no-good, creepy asshole?"

Dae threw up his hands in defeat. "For _her_, of course. Ramel, sometimes you're so naive that I want to strangle you to death in your sleep."

To Ditch's surprise, he saw Cale Soner at the bar. The man was watching the four at the table with interest. Then he went over to the women next to him and began speaking to her. Less than thirty seconds later, Cale and she were kissing wildly.

"Well, would you look at that?"

Jicks saw it second. "Wow, I wonder how he did that."

"Isn't that illegal?" wondered Ramel.

"No, Soner's twenty-five and she's twenty-one. They're in the same age range."

"Silly human laws," Ramel aggressively spat out. "On Rodia, if that happened we'd kill him."

"What?" asked Dae with a short laugh. "There's no law like that on Rodia."

"Correction, there are no laws _at all_ on Rodia. I'd get a mob together and beat his human ass all the way back to wherever he's from."

Jicks said, "He does have some nice moves."

She winked at Soner, whispered something in his ear, and walked off toward the door.

Once she was out of earshot, Ditch yelled, "Score! Nice one, commander, I have to admit that you work fast."

"He's a commander at twenty-five?" wondered Ramel. "You humans promote too fast."

Soner blushed as he made his way over. "I know that you wanted to talk to me Ditch, but can I take a rain check?"

"Sure. How about ten . . . make that _eleven_ tomorrow morning?"

"Noon would be better. I have to get _some_ sleep."

"Yes, sir."

Soner walked away, whistling to himself and left the dance hall in the direction of the bedrooms down the hallway. Ditch wasn't, but he could clearly see that the other three nearest him were very jealous and angry. Ramel seemed especially angry, as if Ditch had done something to offend him. Then he realized that he had forgotten about something. He checked to see if Ramel was wearing his rank insignia, which he wasn't.

"Did your promotion go through?"

Ramel nodded, pleased with his friend. "Maybe you aren't such a asshole after all. Yes, I'm now Flight Officer Ramel and once the senior year starts I'll be a Lieutenant JG."

Ditch raised his hand to his brow, in a somewhat artificial salute. "Do I have to call you 'sir,' now?"

Ramel straightened up and smiled broadly. "Only if I give you an order. He's the first: look around and see who's staring at you. Be subtle about it. Otherwise, the person is going to look away and your mission will be a failure. If you _do _discover the source, you're to subdue the threat by _any_ means possible."

Ditch nodded. "Yes, sir."

Then he _accidently_ knocked Jicks's glass to the floor, despite Yughey's protests. As he reached to grab the glass and give it back to Jicks, he twisted his head slightly. At the other bar on the opposite side of the dance floor sat an array of people, all conversing with someone nearby. One head, however, made a sudden movement away from the dance floor toward someone beside her who was saying something.

Ditch quickly slammed the glass down and looked back at Ramel. "Nice eyes, but what gave you the hint that . . . well, you know . . ."

Ramel shook his head solemnly. "I thought we were friends?"

"Aren't we?"

"Friends don't lie or keep secrets from each other."

Ditch shrugged. "I'm sorry Ramel, but I just didn't see the need to tell everyone. So, what gave you the hint? Has Widmua H'rogo been talking to you again?"

"No," Ramel stated, turning his attention to Dae Bootra.

"Dae!" Ditch grimaced heavily, slamming his hands down on the table. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone!"

Dae stared at him blankly as Ramel said, "I never knew that Duros talked in their sleep before last night. Don't blame him. He didn't do it on purpose."

Ditch sighed heavily. "Sir, I think your 'mission' is a little too dangerous. I've got a police guard on my back."

Jetti would be a problem. If her father heard, Ditch would be living in a dozen test tubes for the next few centuries or until his particles decayed.

Dae smiled broadly. "I have the perfect idea."

Ditch smiled as they looked at Jicks with devilish grins. "Hey Jicks," began Necco, "did you know that Jetti Pikins is a great dancer? You are too, I might add. You also have some flowers that shouldn't go to waste."

"No way guys, not this time."

Ramel smiled. "As much as I hate giving Yughey money, I'll pay ten credits for the job."

Dae said, "Twenty, from me."

Ramel glanced at Dae, seeing if they were on the same wavelength. "And, Ditch, if you dance with Seria, make sure you're close enough for us to see her rear from where we're sitting."

Ditch laughed. "Screw you!"

Colonel Mek Omar, the wing commander for the _Vigilante_, smiled as the coordinates of Captain Vopos's destination appeared on his modified TIE Interceptor's nav computer. It seemed as if their inside agent had come through once again. Vopos and the probe were heading for the Gaffeo system, the moon Gaffeo 2 to be more exact.

His wing of Interceptors, Bombers, and TIE Fighters were all aboard the frigate/carrier _Tendentious_, which was designed to carry an enormous amount of smaller ships. Only Omar and three of his most skilled pilots rode outside in hyperdrive-equipped ships that could get them to Gaffeo 2 under their own power. It was better like this, since the frigate was likely to need fighter cover upon arrival at Gaffeo until the rest of the ships could launch.

He rolled his Interceptor to starboard, in order to get just inside comm range with the frigate. "_Tendentious_ control, I have just intercepted the coordinates sent by our spy. I'm transmitting now. In twelve hours, we'll be in-system."

"Acknowledged, Reaper One. We're following your lead."

They arrived a little ahead of schedule, which risked the chance of being spotted by the shuttle that was approaching Gaffeo 2 about then. Omar made sure that they hadn't been spotted and led his flight ahead a little. Millions of miles still stood between them and Gaffeo 2, requiring them to make another jump in order to arrive above the moon.

"Reaper Squadron, this is Leader. I want you to be the first ships out of the bay once you arrive."

Reaper Five acknowledged the order.

He double-checked the coordinates and relayed them to his flight and to _Tendentious_. "All right, _Tend _control. We're going to go in first. As soon as we arrive, we'll notify you with our long-range comms unit. Be ready because as soon as I give the order, you jump in. There's no room for mistakes here, so follow orders to the letter and fly better than you ever have before."

The frigate had jumped to hyperspace eleven hours before the dance had started, so it was not nearly finished when it was interrupted.

Ditch strolled up to the bar, feeling really nervous, yet comfortable at the same time. To many others that sounded strange, but mixed feelings were common with Necco. Dimmenos Larkin and Seria Henarsi were talking about idle things so Ditch didn't feel as if he was intruding.

Dimm looked up at him, smiling. "Hey, Ditch sit down."

Seria spun around and regarded him slightly.

"I'll be back in a minute," explained Dimm. "Duty calls."

Ditch took a seat next to Seria and said, "Uh, can I buy you a drink."

She looked at her empty glass for a moment before accepting the offer. He grabbed two drinks, both of them being non-alcoholic. If he needed one thing in his system right now, he knew it wasn't beer.

"I never realized you were a virgin."

Her comment came as soon as he was sipping the drink, making him spit it all out. "Say what?"

She chuckled lightly. "I meant with drinks. You don't drink alcohol?"

He suddenly felt relieved, and drank another gulp of his drink. "Not usually, but sometimes I have one every once in awhile. Three's my limit per week."

"Why's that?"

He shrugged. "A lot of reasons I guess. For one, whenever I drink more it messes me up bad and I can't think straight. Also, I've seen the effects of alcohol on some of my relatives. My uncle . . . Never mind, it isn't important. I doubt that you would care."

"I'm so sorry, Ditch," she said sincerely. "I didn't mean to intrude. Oh, and I do care. Did you have me pegged for one of those rough, insensitive types?"

"No, but usually no one cares about my family . . ."

She narrowed her eyes, examining him, but she didn't reply. She obviously didn't know about his background or knew _too_ much of it.

Just talking for that one minute made Ditch feel much more comfortable than he already was.

She finished off her drink and asked, "So how come you weren't dancing?"

Ditch realized that she had came in late, after he had made an utter fool of himself, which went to his favor. "Oh, well I'm not exactly the best dancer."

She looked at him questionably. "Come, I'll show you."

Hearing this made Ditch think about when he had first came to Barnootsna and at the first dance Dimmenos insisted that Ditch ask Seria to dance, who would sort of help him, he guessed. At that time he figured that he didn't need lessons like that and would just be embarrassed even more. Now, however, he welcomed any excuse to dance with her.

Before he could even think about arguing, she grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto the dance floor where a slow dance was just starting. Jetti had been very good, making Ditch want to show her up but ended up looking worse. Now, he didn't want to show anybody that he was better, because he wasn't.

They met near the middle, where Dae and Ramel were trying see through the crowd. For a microsecond, Ditch thought about giving into the aliens' demands, but then he realized that would not be a very smart thing to do.

Ditch was tense for the first minute, but then he felt comfortable again. He could always feel comfortable around Seria, for some reason.

She showed him alternate steps and he caught on quickly. They started out with Ditch almost tripping over a small green alien ambassador and ended with them in harmony. The second tune was just a little bit different, and Ditch already knew some moves for it, so he did well that time. They danced for a few more, and then retreated back to the bar where Widmua and Dimm were sitting.

The Gotal grinned slyly at Ditch but asked Seria, "Have you seen Korb? He hasn't been around since the post-grad assembly."

She shook her head, considering it for a moment. "No, but I'm sure he's around."

Dimmenos seemed distant. The lieutenant was staring into the mansion wall, without changing his gaze. Seria patted him on the back. "Hey, you okay?"

Dimmenos slowly turned his head to face her. "Something's . . . wrong."

Ditch took a step back. If he was about to be hit by Dimm, he wasn't going to take the blow that easily. "What do you mean by that?"

Dimm grabbed his head and soothed it with his fingers. Ditch got him a cup of water and launched it on his face.

"Thanks, I needed that."

_Actually, I did that for kicks . . . but, oh well._

Ditch still wasn't sure what was going on, but he had seen this sort of thing happen before. On Tsijenna with his parents, he met many characters but the most distinguished were the people who could sense if something was about to happen. Most of the time, the people were just kooks and spooks, but once in a while he ran across psychics.

"Dimm, what do you see?"

Larkin shot a painful glance at him and collapsed onto the bar stool. He stared for a moment, uncomprehending the words. "Oh, must have been just some beer aftershock."

Ditch had seen that plenty of times also.

"I'll take him back to barracks," Widmua offered.

"You want me to come?"

Widmua waved a hand in dismissal. "No. We'll be fine. Maybe we'll find Korb while we're at it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Have fun, Seria."

Then, with Dimm's arm wrapped around his shoulders, Widmua more crawled than walked away, through the exit.

"I hope he'll be all right."

"It's probably just an alcohol thing, like he suggested."

She lowered her head and started walking off. Ditch looked around and decided to follow her. She led him out onto the balcony where she went to the edge and peered off. Ditch came up beside her and looked around at the city streets.

After a few minutes of silence, they witnessed Widmua haul Dimm out the front door. Dimm took one defiant look toward the sky before he was thrown in the hover cab. Ditch just hoped the strange look was not directed at him.

Ditch thought about putting his arm around her shoulder, but he couldn't just yet. A pebble distracted him as it hit his leg. He could barely feel it, but he spun around just in case something was there. Near the door, behind plants that were used for decoration by the governor were two unmistakable people: Dae and Ramel.

He bit his lip to keep back a curse and he slowly walked back to the tall plants. Dae raised one hand, shook it around a little, and whispered, "You can do it!"

He made a mental note to kick his pansy ass later and break Ramel's camera before he showed it to anyone. He raised his middle finger at the duo, causing Ramel to lower the camera. "Man, we can't show that on TV!"

He grabbed them from their hiding spots by their shirts and tossed them into the dance hall. He returned to Seria's side, where she looked at him curiously. He moved closer and looked at her. "So, uh . . ."

"Shut up."

He grinned and moved as close as he could before he would have to kiss her. He didn't want her to leave, for he knew that he would never see her again if she was stationed on the other side of the galaxy. He wished that there was some way for them to stay together for just a little longer. He then kissed her.

They continued to kiss for at least ten seconds, but Ditch had lost track of time. Then at the same time he heard the sound of someone stepping on the balcony, not nearly as quietly as Ramel and Dae would, and a bombastic explosion overhead.

"Ditch!" called Jetti, with Jicks Yughey standing next to her.

Before he could say anything, he glanced up at the sky to see something inbound. It was a small ship, a Y-wing bomber/fighter, and it was heading straight for the mansion. Jicks saw it at the same time.

Then impact occurred, knocking a hole in the ceiling, sending flames all over the place. The rest of the ceiling collapsed, crushing the room's occupants under its mass. Screams of terror erupted throughout the room, crushed people pleading for help as the life was slowly sucked out of them. Then the doorway above Jetti and Jicks began to rumble and become very loose.

"Jetti, watch out!" Jicks cried even as he pushed her out onto the balcony. Then the beam of duracrete dropped.

Ditch reached inside for his friends, but feared the worst. Just before the duracrete collided with the balcony, Dae and Ramel rolled out of the way onto the platform.

The two were on their feet, helping the fallen Jetti and Jicks up just as the balcony broke away from the building and tumbled down toward the ground.

Luckily, they were only on the second floor and the governor kept his wagon, which was propelled only by an ass or two, directly below the balcony. Ditch hit the canvas hood first, followed by Seria who landed almost on top of him. The hay made the fall easier but they had to dodge the falling duracrete from the second floor.

As Ditch surveyed the damage, he realized that the ship had went straight through the third floor window and through the ground. He saw that Seria was not injured and was satisfied. He rolled her off of him gently and looked around for the others. Jetti, Jicks, and Ramel were already in the wagon, using up most the room.

Then Dae came crashing down, hitting the ancient wagon's durasteel seat after going through the canvas wagon covering. Dae then rolled off the wagon in pain and landed in front of the it.

Ditch made it to his knees, filled with pain from Seria landing on top of him. He crawled over to the others, making sure they weren't seriously injured and looked off the edge of the wagon, where the sole ass was sniffing Dae intently, who had fallen inside a small pen. The ass made a strange noise and crawled on top of the Duros, laying down and then seemed to fall asleep.

"Dae?"

There was no answer, so Ditch rolled off the wagon and into the pen to check on him. He shook him around a little bit before the alien finally woke up. He glanced around, trying to move. "Ditch. I can't move my legs. I think I'm not going to make it."

"Don't be silly," Ditch ordered. "You can't feel your legs because an ass is sitting on them."

Dae slowly moved his head over the dirt. "Well, what do you know? A giant ass is sleeping on my legs. I must have had one too many drinks, or I've landed in heaven."

Ditch smiled, knowing that his Duros friend would be fine. Painfully, he rose to his feet and climbed back in the wagon to arouse the others. No one seemed to be strong enough to move except for Seria. "We have to get them help and find out what's going on!"

"Okay, let's go," she said weakly as she crawled up.

They rolled out of the wagon and just stared at the sky for a moment. Neither one of them felt like moving, but they knew they had to sometime.

Overhead, they spotted dozens of ship—mostly TIEs—battling in the skies. He spotted only a few New Republic ships, so he knew they would need all the pilots they could get to help them out. Ditch stared blankly up at the sky as the remaining UDF fighters exploded."This doesn't look good."

**CHAPTER SIX**

The shuttle's shields sucked the last bit of energy they could handle in, and instantaneously shut off. The next hit from the pursuing TIE Interceptor made the shuttle's occupants jump in their seats, sending a few stormtroopers hurdling across the floor.

Rin Dinjin clasped the bottom of his seat so he would not be thrust from it by the impact. Two more blasts hit them, causing the ship to shudder wildly as it made its approach at the planet.

They entered the atmosphere a few seconds later, with the Interceptor still behind them. The ship jerked as the engines and thrusters were turned off, but a few seconds later the copilot activated the repulsarlift drive. Dinjin poked his head into the open cockpit and saw that the pilot had been killed.

Captain Vopos was beside him, crawling on the floor. Blood was dripping from his mouth and his chest was bleeding fiercely. Despite the pain Dinjin knew the man was feeling, the captain opened his mouth. "Colonel, where's the escort you ordered? We are near the base and still only one squadron has launched."

Dinjin unbuckled his harness and dropped to his knees. "Well captain, the pilots are mostly— they are mostly . . ."

"What?"

Dinjin bowed his head. "The pilots are cadets, and they're just kids. You see? It's just a New Republic Academy."

Vopos grabbed Rin's shirt with his bloody hands. "If I don't last, Dinjin, I want you to make sure the probe gets into safe hands. Trust no one to take care of it, only yourself. Any one of the UDF or New Republic personnel could be a double-agent or just corrupt like most everyone else. No exceptions to this rule and no excuses."

Dinjin frowned, disturbed by the task that had just been handed over to him. The stormtrooper medic ran into the hold to treat the Imperial captain, so Dinjin left his side and went into the cockpit. He grabbed his comlink that was laying on the dashboard and called, "Drikaletti, what's going on?"

The Twìlek replied in a sullen voice. "Me and Zaz are the only two friendly ships up here. A flight of TIEs has us corned about ten kilometers from your position. There's no way that we can get there anytime soon."

"I copy. Hey, if we go down, make sure that you get to safety. Once this is all over I want you to find Flight Officer Veyanol."

"Yes sir, but you'll be with us when we do."

He understood that it wasn't as much of a question as was a statement. Dinjin didn't answer, dropping the comlink into his pocket. He saw the copilot struggling with the controls, for the shuttle needed both two pilots.

"You need any help?"

"Get in that chair!"

Dinjin unbuckled the pilot and slid him off the chair as gently as he could, out of respect. He then hopped in the chair and began messing with the controls. The only familiar control was the sole blaster mounted on the bottom of the shuttle for emergency situations. "Keep us on course. I'll try to hit that TIE on our back."

He turned on the targeting computer and switched the weapon controls over to manual. He wiggled the stick until he found the ship behind him and waited until he had a good shot at the cockpit. He knew that he wouldn't get very many a shots-the fighter could always climb to a higher elevation and attack from above—so he had to make them count. He aimed at the center in the circle of the transparisteel cockpit and pitched the weapon up a tiny way. He guessed where the average head of a pilot would be and choose that as his target. As soon as he got a good lock, he squeezed the trigger. The blast flew backward, slamming into the cockpit. Even if he didn't hit the pilot, the cockpit would depressurize and the ship would have to drop to a lower elevation.

He typed in the visual command and he then saw the TIE through the rear window where the targeting system used to be. The ship was still flying straight-and-level, but was no longer shooting. He increased the magnitude of the view and could see inside the cockpit. The blast had gone all the way through the pilot's helmet, he knew by looking at the splattered blood on the Interceptor's window.

"So much for him."

The copilot nodded. "We're not out of this, yet. We have four bogeys, incoming. Estimate time of arrival is ten minutes."

"They could veer off in that amount of time."

"I doubt it, but that is a possibility. We won't be in landing range for another twelve minutes." He huffed with displeasure. "A mere two minutes could decide how long we live and who know's what, depending on what's in that probe. I just hope that it is worth the time and effort we put into this whole operation."

"I'm sure that it _will_ be worth it. Otherwise, the Empire . . . I mean that the warlords wouldn't be trying so hard to get their hands on it."

Ditch Necco and Seria Henarsi strolled into Welf Pikins's office with haste. Pikins eyed them carefully, regarding both of them. "Ditch, where's my Jetti?"

Ditch gulped as he gave his answer. "Sir, the governor's mansion was hit by an inoperable Y-wing. A few of us were out on the balcony when it hit. Everyone inside was killed or is still crushed under ten meters of duracrete. Jetti is fine, just a little shocked by the impact. We being the only two who could move called for an ambulance and came directly over here."

He nodded slightly, but kept a fixed gaze on Necco. "There is no time to waste. Seria, your squadron's already at the hangar and I suggest you join them there."

"Yes, sir." She saluted and walked out the door.

Ditch was still cradling his arm from the fall but he felt confident that he could pilot a ship. "Sir, shall I find a fighter around the base?"

Pikins shook his head. "Ditch. I have to tell you that this fight isn't looking very good. Our two defensive squadrons have been destroyed and Flarrisk's unit won't be up for another few minutes. Even when they _do_ get up there, I'm afraid they won't do very much good. There were six TIE squadrons when they launched from the frigate/carrier _Tendentious_ and they have only lost a few fighters so far."

Ditch frowned with incomprehension. The newest addition to the Imperial fleets was designed to have the firepower of a standard Imperial Star Destroyer and carry up to twelve squadrons in its hangar bays. It was almost the perfect ship since it was as fast as the agile Lancer frigates, its only flaw being very weak shields. Two questions bothered him: why would the frigate be only halfway full? and what was a frigate/carrier like _Tendentious_ doing all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere?

If the fighters and capital ship engaged Sovereign Squadron at the same time, the battle would be short and nothing less than a slaughter of New Republic ships.

"Sir, permission to take an X-wing from the third hangar?"

The third hangar was where the trainees went when instructors showed them what an X-wing could actually do in space. There were only twelve X-wing Trainers and none of them were equipped with proton torpedoes or concussion missiles, but their blaster cannons worked well.

The commandant shook his head. "Absolutely not! You're far too valuable to be lost over this conflict and we're going to need all the ships we can get once the other seniors get back from wherever they are." Welf saw the pained expression that Ditch wore and said, "You mean to tell me that they were all in the dance hall."

"No, one of them left with Commander S—" Ditch decided to shut his mouth before he said anything else.

Welf raised an eyebrow curiously. "I don't want to know. All the juniors must have been in their too—which makes me wonder whether or not we'll need the sophomores and freshmen to man the defenses."

Ditch lowered his head solemnly. He had lost a lot of good friends that day. Most he only spoke with once a week, but they had been through so much. It was just another tragedy of war, he realized. "Sir, what _can_ I do?"

"Well, Jetti would die if something happened to you so you can take the turret on top of the building."

"The battle's in space and up high in the atmosphere. I won't be able to help anyone from there," he explained.

Pikins seemed prepared for this answer and nodded. "I understand why you would want to help so I think the best place for you to be would not be in this building's turret but in the hangar turret. It has a longer range and you might be able to give the pilots some cover. The only problem is that you'll need to find someone on the way who can help you with it."

Ditch accepted the request and was on his way a minute later. His trek through the building led him to no one that could help with the two-man turret, so he decided to keep on going without a helper. On the way to the main hangar, which was on the other side of the mansion from Welf Center, a trio of freshmen crowded him.

Their spokesman took a step forward. "Necco, we really want to help. What can we do?"

"Thanks for the offer but I'm fine. You might want to go over to the mansion and try to help the EMS team."

They nodded in unison and ran off in that direction. Ditch needed a helper, but not three, otherwise he would have gladly accepted their offer. It was less than a minute later when Cale Soner came running down the path from the governor's mansion, past the freshmen. One of his legs was already inside his pants, but the other was still trying to get in. It took him a few seconds before he slid his last leg into his pants and was beside Ditch.

He hopped along, trying to match Necco's speed while pulling on his left sock. Ditch didn't argue the commander coming along, and he thought maybe Soner could help him.

They reached the hangar where Korb Yua'lak and Widmua H'rogo were standing at the door. Ditch stopped for a moment to ask, "Is Dimmenos okay?"

Widmua nodded. "In fact, he's better than ever. In the hover cab he said that we had to go back and evacuate the building. I thought he was just drunk . . . or else I would have listened to him."

What the Gotal had said confirmed Ditch's thoughts that Dimmenos was some sort of psychic, but that was not the time to mention anything about. "All right, hit him hard for everyone who died in the mansion."

Korb glanced at Soner, just as the man began to button up his shirt. He raised an eyebrow as his gaze switched from Soner to Ditch every few seconds. Then his head went back and his eyes widened more than Ditch had thought possible.

"Right," the Bothan began, "I think I'm going to go over _there_ now."

"I wonder what's wrong with him?" asked Soner.

Ditch smiled weakly. "I have no idea," he lied.

Soner followed the younger man over to an access ladder, which they both climbed. When Soner realized that they were in a gun turret, he didn't seem surprised. Ditch took a seat and motioned for Soner to take the other. Reluctantly, the commander sat down and stared at the controls for a few seconds.

"Sorry, but I need a long-range targeting programmer."

"Oh, no wonder I couldn't find the 'fire' button, I'm a technician. You know, I always wanted to work with mechanical equipment, just to see what it's like, but I never really had the chance. I mean: I don't want to be a mechanic for an occupation or anything but . . ."

"Commander, just turned the targeting system on." He shook his head with amusement. "You're not that kind of programmer. You lock onto targets using that computer, so I can shoot at them."

"Hey, you don't have to be angry about it." Soner flipped the on-switch and scanned the area for bogeys. "I'm a little knew at this. We're the green blips, right?"

Ditch sighed, letting go of the gun controls for a minute. "The green blips are Imperial fighters, the reds are our ships, and yellow are unknown or neutral, presumed hostile—"

"So if there's some guy flying an unarmed ship, minding his own business, and bringing medical supplies to the city because everyone's about to die, we're supposed to kill him? This place sucks!"

"You know that you're not an ordinary commander."

"You know that you're not an ordinary cadet."

Ditch waved the statement away without wondering why Soner had said it. "The _Blue_ blips are for the neutral craft that are thought to be friendly. Please don't come up with another 'what if' theory. Sovereign Squadron is depending on us."

Commander Soner shrugged. "That Commander Flarrisk has something big stuck up his butt. He can be such a jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I have some friends in that squadron and I've already lost enough friends for one day."

"Hey, me too. I've got you covered."

Rin Dinjin braced himself for another impact as the first barrage a green fire lanced out from the four TIE Fighters behind them. They had restored shields, but that volley had taken them down considerable.

Dinjin brought up his targeting screen and blasted away at the fighters that he could hit. They didn't do any serious damage, but it made the enemy pilots hesitate before firing again. The copilot, who was doing all the maneuvering, spun the craft around so the blasts wouldn't be concentrated too much on the rear shields. As soon as the spin was complete, the copilot put all laser energy to rear shields and speed.

Dinjin squeezed a few shots before his cannon ran dry and inoperable. In his free time, he tried to suck all the power from their minor devices and channel their energy to the shield around them.

When the enemy fired again, the shuttle lost almost all of its shields and an engine had been critically damaged, but still functioning. The next hits made the restraining harness malfunction and it came unhooked from his seat. All shields were down and the next blast sent sparks flying throughout the ship and Dinjin into the canopy. He winced in pain as grabbed his head in order to slow the bleeding. He crawled off the dashboard and fell to the floor next to the pilot, where the medic came over and wrapped a bandage from his chin to the tip of his head and back to the chin.

"The captain wants to speak with you."

The medic helped Dinjin back to the hold after the copilot stated that he would be fine. Dinjin was set down next to the captain, who was laying in a pool of blood. "Colonel," he said in a very weak voice, "I want you to take this."

Dinjin examined the card that was being shoved in his hand. It was a durasheet, meaning that its contents would fade away in a certain amount of time, so they could be reused. Dinjin read the numbers on it, memorized them, and then dropped the durasheet into the back of the shuttle, where no one could find it until it faded.

The captain looked up at the ceiling with a disturbed look. "The medic tells me it's fatal, but I can hardly feel it."

Dinjin nodded slowly. The captain was obviously still in shock from the wound and the pain hadn't kicked in yet.

"Hey, supplies and ships are on the way from Unngrae. Everything will be fine."

He smiled faintly, but his eyes still did not waver. "Maybe, but you have to remember that Shrok Bandanor has five star destroyers, and Warlord Fiell has eight. Together, you will not last long against them."

Rin grimaced, realizing what kind of threat they were up against. He never would have thought that so many star destroyers were in that sector. Something was definitely wrong; he knew that this sector posed no major threat and to have two fleets in the same place was ridiculous and a waste of manpower.

The captain then handed Dinjin a shiny medal object. He took it and studied it for a moment, before realizing that it was a medallion of some sort. "What's this for?"

"You will know when the time comes to use it."

Dinjin had no comprehension of what the man was talking about, but remained quiet and stared at him intently. After a long moment, he tucked the medallion away in his pocket.

The captain just laid there for a moment, then he broke out in a series of convulsions. His right hand reached out and gripped at air before it went limp, as did all of his limbs. He then sprang up by reflex and hit the ground hard as he fell back. His lips began to twitch and his face began to turn blue.

"Medic!"

Even as he called, he realized that the captain wasn't going to make it.

The captain shook and shuddered around for a second, then he was completely still. His lip no longer twitched, his chest no longer bobbed up and down, and he stopped breathing. Dinjin double-checked, just to make sure, but it was no use.

Gytr Vopos, former captain of the Imperial star destroyer _Exodus_, was dead.

Dinjin let the stormtroopers crowd their fallen leader, and, after a moment of consideration, he went back to the cockpit. The copilot took a quick glance back but remained quite. As Dinjin took his seat, he could hear the man next to him trying to suck his tears back in. As Dinjin checked the targeting screen, he found that, to his surprise, the skies were clear of bogeys. "What happened to the flight of fighters on our six?"

"An X-wing squadron launched from a hangar up ahead. They intercepted and cleared us. It was a good thing, too. This ship wouldn't last one more hit from those fighters."

Dinjin reviewed the damage and much to his disliking, he discovered that engines were minimal, the comm unit was barely functioning with garbled transmissions, all weapon systems had been fried, and the repulsarlifts were failing.

Rin typed in commands to help the ship stay afloat, but the copilot had already taken care of everything in their power. Their descent rate was much to fast for a successful landing. If their operational systems stayed online, they would hit the surface about a hundred meters short of the hangar.

"Look! Two X-wings are headed our direction and they look hostile."

Dinjin grabbed the comm unit switch, but now even that was malfunctioning. He grabbed his personal comlink and keyed it. He knew that he couldn't find the X-wings' frequency, so he adjusted the comlink to Zascari Rinket's ship. "Zaz, I need you to give me those X-wings' frequency and alert them that I need to speak to them, so they don't shoot us."

"I copy that," Zaz said in his usual tense voice. "I'm transmitting the frequency now."

Dinjin waited until his comlink automatically turned to one or more of the X-wings' frequencies. "X-wing pilot, this is Lieutenant Colonel Rin Dinjin, Unngrae Defense Fleet. Do not fire on this shuttle. I repeat, do not fire on this shuttle. We are friendly with cargo that is vital."

"This is Commander Dopkin Flarrisk, New Republic fleet, Sovereign Squadron. We accept the cease fire and wish for you to state your cargo. On a more personal note, I'd like to know why you're flying an Imperial ship during an engagement."

"I have very important cargo: a probe carrying unknown information about either the Empire or the warlords. I'd be happy to brief you on the situation as soon as we're groundside."

"I copy, colonel. For what it's worth, welcome to Gaffeo 2. May your stay here be less eventful than your arrival."

Colonel Mek Omar pivoted his TIE Interceptor toward the New Republic base. A detail from Reaper Wing escorted him, two ships on his left and three on his right. Flying at treetop level was dangerous, but his thirty years of piloting experience made him confident that he would be all right. A wingman from his right side broke away, to serve as a shield from the turrets scattered throughout the city.

"Reapers, this is Reaper One. Lead Flight, stay on me; Reaper Twenty, break off and distract those irritating turrets."

His Flight performed smoothly as they flew through the city streets—the three nearest he flew almost as smooth as he—making tight turns at dead Omar gave the order to make a strafing run on the group of buildings just outside of the city. He knew that this order was against mission protocol, but the Rebel's would be crippled without this small base. He even heard that it was an academy for pilots, but there was no way he could be certain of that. Whether it housed a bunch of kids or not, he really didn't care either way. "Commence firing," he ordered with extreme pleasure.

Then the chaos erupted once again, as it had when the fighting had started and they had destroyed the governor's prized mansion, and when they slaughtered the defending fighter squadrons. Colonel Omar fired first, as he always did. His action was repeated by his flight and by Reaper Twenty who was above the tallest building, attacking an unmanned turret that rested on the roof.

The turret exploded into flames, sending bits of shrapnel around the roof. It wouldn't matter in a minute, but it would take days for the janitor to clean up that mess. Omar unleashed every bit of his weaponry on the tallest building, drawing an arch through the complex with his blaster cannons. The other Interceptors ripped away duracrete from the remaining buildings, sending debris all over the yard. Down below, emerging from the barracks and from another building on the other side of the base were dozens of frightened people.

Reaper Twenty, out of what seemed to be pure anger, whacked the crowd with a volley, sending many people to their death and others flying through the air. Omar did not agree with the killing of unarmed civilians or soldiers, but he did not do anything to stop the massacre.

Twenty was laughing devilishly over the comm unit as he murdered the innocent, too. He seemed to be having more fun than he had ever had in his life. The Interceptor then turned away from the base and began hitting the town's buildings, folk, and vehicles without thinking twice about it.

Omar winced but continued to fire upon the base.

"I need a flight of bombers over here now. We're going to finish this base off, here and now."

His order was acknowledged by _Tend_ control but the control man stated that it would be about twenty minutes before the TIE Bombers could arrive at their position. It seemed that a newcomer X-wing squadron had joined the fight and was tying the Bombers up on the other side of town.

"Reaper Twenty, abort you're attack and help out the bombers."

There was no reply from Twenty, who was preoccupied with destroying everything within sight. Berserkers like Twenty were common, especially throughout the warlords. Omar had seen plenty of them in his time and he knew that if they couldn't be trusted with an order, they couldn't be trusted with anything at all.

"Twenty, abort your attack run."

There was still no reply from the craft.

"Damn it!" He flipped his ship around in the town's direction and locked onto one of his most skilled squadmates. "Last chance, Twenty, break off and respond now or be destroyed."

That got the pilot's attention. "Negative, Leader," he announced, "they must _all _die!"

"Return to _Tendentious_, pilot. You're clearly not fit to fly."

For several seconds, Twenty hovered there without moving or firing. The nozzle slowly turned up toward _Tend_ but did not stop once it had an approach vector. The fighter kept on spinning backward until Omar found himself under Reaper Twenty's targeting reticule. His lock-warning came on and he found himself juking to get out of the way.

Twenty found him again, as their distance shortened and the colonel realized Twenty was on an intercept course for him. "I'm sorry, Twenty," he stated.

Then he fired his quad-linked laser cannons at the oncoming ship and it ignited into flames. Twenty had been a good friend and had never shown any signs of being a berserker until then. Omar sighed with disgust. "I don't know what just happened here, but someone has a lot of explaining to do. Reapers Three and Four, go help out the bombers. Two, let's cause some damage to their planetary defenses. We have to have everything inoperable before _Tend_ can come in and clean things up."

Rin Dinjin and the shuttle's copilot landed the ship successfully, despite the protests of the engines and repulsarlifts. They had been 135 meters from the hangar, but a small vehicle appeared from a shed and pulled the shuttle into the hangar.

On the way in, he was allowed a view of the engagement raging on overhead. Sovereign Squadron knew what they were doing and were holding the bombers away from the city. There had been one X-wing lost since he had landed the shuttle and already two TIE fighters were down and a bomber looked as if it were ready to give up.

The shuttle came to a stop about the time that Commander Erato's fighters, which numbered only seven now, came in for a landing. Dinjin and his group exited the ship, finally getting some air after a few of being trapped inside a small ship. He couldn't even imagine how the fighter pilots felt, not being able to move their feet for a week.

When he came out, he took a long breath of fresh air and smiled. It felt so good to be groundside again. He loved to fly but after those especially long flights, he enjoyed being able to walk around without having to worry a nuke exploding underneath his feet.

Commander Erato jumped off the top of his ship without waiting for the ladder. He wobbled over to Dinjin. "I never want to do that again. My legs hurt constantly and that skirmish up there almost got me killed. I need a good nap and a bath." Then he saw the sullen faces that Rin and the copilot wore. The others might have been sharing the expression, but their faces were impossible to read through their stormtrooper helmets. "Where is captain Vopos?"

Dinjin shook his head. "I'm sorry, commander. The captain didn't survive the battle."

Erato ran up the plank of the shuttle and disappeared into the hold.

Dinjin sighed and sat down on the ground, staring around the hangar. It seemed a lot smaller than it used to be, but then again, he had been smaller, last time he was standing there. Two men slid down a ladder near the main entrance to the hangar, dashing over toward them.

They both looked like they had seen enough action for one day. The older bore a commander's insignia, but Dinjin had never seen such a young man with such a high rank. The other was just a Flight Cadet, a trainee who attended Barnootsna Academy. The two looked at the stormtroopers who were all lined up in a row and almost fell over.

"You act as if you've never seen a stormtrooper."

The elder spoke first. "Colonel Rin Dinjin, I presume? I'm Commander Cale Soner and this is Flight Cadet Ditch Necco."

Erato had emerged from the ship, carrying the captain's body with the honor guard's help. "Flight Cadet?" he demanded angrily. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have to saw that this is some sort of school. That would explain why the defenses are so lack and the barracks are so big."

"It _is _an academy," explained Rin.

Erato looked down at his fallen captain. "He was such a good man . . . he died just so we could get the probe into the hands of some undertrained, egotistic, pampered kids."

Necco clenched his fist with a fiery gaze held on the Imperial commander. "You know those two X-wings that drove the TIE fighters off your's and the shuttle's tail? They're both undertrained, egotistic, pampered kids and without them you'd be sucking the vacuum in a three-inch tin can."

"He's a bit peppery for being so young."

Soner nodded. "I've noticed that since I met him. He's nice deep down, but he's just a little shocked. You would be too if an Imp was strolling around your hangar with an armed escort. Why don't you tell them to put their safeties on and you can tell us what's going on here?"

Dinjin gave them a brief explanation of what had happened and why he was running around with the Empire, and promised to fill them in more fully at a later time. "Can you tell me where commandant Pikins is right now?"

Necco shrugged indecisively. "Last time I saw him, he was in the large building on the base."

Commander Erato finished dragging Captain Vopos out of the ship and raised his head slightly. "Last time I saw that building, it was being pounded by TIE Interceptors with bombers inbound."

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Let's go vape us some Imps."

Ditch was almost surprised at Soner's comment. He turned his gaze from Colonel Dinjin, Commander Erato, the guards, and the shuttle to the man standing next to him. The statement was said with ambition and passion, but his voice leaked hatred that had been carefully bottled up for some time. Something must have happened to Soner, to make him hate the Empire. Ditch had not sensed it until then, but he could clearly see it a few seconds later.

"I've got you back, sir."

Soner threw Erato an evil look. "I hope your friends aren't in that unit."

"I am an Imperial officer and have _no_ friends among the warlords. They are my sworn enemies and can die hideous deaths for all I care."

Cale nodded. "It may sound strange, but I understand." He turned to Necco. "Go get a ship. I'll meet you at the academy."

Ditch sprinted out the door, past the detail sent by Pikins for the Imperial shuttle. They turned their heads at him, but did not try to stop him from proceeding. If they did, he would have had to fight them. He knew he would lose, but he had to at least _try_ to get airborne.

The path he took was a long one, but they were all long from the academy to the hangar. Obviously the campus architects never imagined that something like this would happen and the remaining cadets would need to evacuate or launch in fighters.

He pulled out his comlink and fiddled with it until it reached the control tower frequency. "Tower, put me through to one of our fighters!"

No answer.

He repeated the request several more times, but still no one replied. He ran through the city streets until he came to a large building, a bank, and a dead end. Just beyond the bank was tower and he presumed that he could go up there and see what was wrong with the control men. He went straight through Gaffeo Banking, Inc. via the front and back doors in the lobby and came to a stop on the slab entrance. He raised his gaze up to the tower, to locate the control men. His eyes rolled across floor after floor, until the met the top of the building, where the control center was located. The transparisteel-enclosed floor was now gone, blown off the tip of the tower by TIE Bombers. He grimaced as he saw the debris from the tower scattered all over the street and yards that separated the tall bank and the taller tower.

Then he heard it. The horrid sound of death crept into his ears as a deafening noise sounded, signifying that a bomb had collided with the bank. He turned on his heel and glanced up as chunks of duracrete flooded down from bank, crashing into the sidewalk he was standing on. He dove for cover from the wreckage and slid into the doorway of the bank. The interior provided him some protection, for the time being. He made his way to the middle of the lobby and looked up. There was no ceiling, except for the floor of the tenth story. Levels one through nine were all opened in the middle of the building.

A spiral curved its way up through the floors, serving as a walkway/ramp for the customers and employees. An emergency alarm sounded throughout the building, implying that everyone should exit the building in an orderly fashion. Somehow Ditch couldn't imagine four-hundred crowded people walking down the spiral and exiting the doors without pushing people over and trampling them in their wake, intent on exiting no matter what damage was done to their fellow evacuees.

To his surprise, the building had no already been vacated. The occupants most likely believed that they would be safe, locked away in their offices, if they stayed there. It seemed as if most of them had left, but about one-ten of them remained. All of the doors opened at once, set on some sort of computer system. About eighty people, ranging from young child to senior citizen, stormed out of their room lightly. There was no shoves or pushes or trampling, but they were not leaving in an orderly fashion. The eighty ran past him at a speedy but not dangerous pace and exited through all of the doors.

Ditch could still see a few hesitant and slow people making their way down the ramp, and he knew they would have to pick up the pace if they wanted to survive. The ceiling collapsed as soon as the final rusher had made it through the door. The ceiling fell down in one piece, ripping away everything in its path. The eighth floor, which contained a slightly smaller opening than the rest, stopped the ceiling for a moment, but he knew that it couldn't last.

He tried calling to the slowpokes, one of whom was on a wheel chair, but they kept going at their usual pace. The remaining dozen or so met at the fourth floor, moving down the spiral in unison. Ditch called upon his emotional and impulsive heart to take him up the spiral toward them. He ran up the light grey stairway, until he reached the band. He grabbed onto the wheelchair's handles and began strolling the old man down the spiral without brakes. He waved the other's on, and they picked up the speed a little bit. One guy was huffing as they reached the third floor. Most of them were elderly, making it harder on them, but Ditch wasn't going to let them give up and die.

A few of them protested that the ceiling was halted and of no more danger to them, but Ditch knew that another bomb or two could bring the entire place down.

They had reached the second floor by the time the next two bombs pounded the ceiling in. The ceiling began to slowly crack, along with the eighth floor. A few pieces of the ceiling fell with the next bomb, but Ditch had already strolled the wheelchair out of the building by then. He ran back inside to usher the other's out. He told them to run for safety, and they began walking off at an even slower pace.

Ditch let out a sigh of relief. But was interrupted by a distant moan. It was a child's voice, clearly. He looked up as the duracrete began to slowly wear away and drop, piece by piece. He could not ignore the cry, but his brain told him to run and save himself. His heart told him to run and save the child.

He cursed at his mind and heart, strongly hoping they would agree on an action. Finally, his brain gave in and he was back at the spiral again. He grabbed onto the rail that started at the base and paralleled the ramp all the way up, to support himself.

The cry came from the third floor, which was a long way up, considering the angle the ramp went up at. By the time he reached the third floor, the eighth floor was falling apart. He didn't think it could last one more bomb and, unfortunately, he was right.

Laying on the floor, arms out, screaming and pouting, was a little girl, no older than three of four. Next to her was a body of a man who looked like he was about forty when he died. Ditch perfectly understood that this was either her father or a close friend or relative. He scooped her up in his arms off the floor and she looked up at him with a confused look.

"It'll be all right," he assured her. Even as he said the words, they sounded really dull.

A final bomb impacted with the ceiling, knocking it and the eighth floor down. With the girl still in his arms, ran back to the ramp and began running down it. He knew they would never make it, so he grabbed onto the rail. "Hold on."

He wrapped his legs around the rail, held her tight in his left arm, and held onto the bar with his right hand. He then began to slide down the bar, like he had seen in all of those holo videos. After five feet in five seconds, he realized he wasn't _in_ a holo video.

The girl looked at him and kicked his ribs. "Not smart, dummy!"

_She sure is a mean little shit._

He unhooked himself from the bar and ran the rest of the way to the second floor. He knew he couldn't make another, though. The entire building had collapsed to the fifth floor and was not slowing. He quickly ran into an office building, seeing an open window. He went over to it, and peered out. There was no wagon like at the governor's mansion and there was no fire ladder, so he was pretty much screwed.

The building was destroyed down to the fourth floor now, leaving only the third floor as a restrainer.

Then he saw it. An X-wing was hovering at his level, heading in his direction. Its nose lined up with the window, just as the third floor was destroyed and the second was reduced to five feet. He ducked and leapt through the narrow window, leaving the harrowing structure behind.

He turned to witness it, as the bank was reduced to rubble in front of his eyes.

He leaned back in relief, with the child still in his arms. He motioned to his savior to set them down at the third hangar and within three minutes, the X-wing landed.

Ditch waited for a ladder to come by, and he climbed down with the little girl. She looked at him and smiled, before he set her down. She seemed sad, but when a woman arrived in the hangar, she ran to her and gave her a big hug.

He glanced up at the X-wing cockpit to see Soner, throwing him a salute as his ship rose in the air. It didn't surprise him to see that Cale Soner used the X-wing model, rather than the wide variety of other ships he had to choose from. Ditch returned it and ran over to an X-wing Trainer. To his mild surprise, the ship was refueled and ready-to-go.

It was a simple matter of finding a life support unit, then. He probably wouldn't need the life support gear for just a quick fight, but his instructor, Mr. Cocsiker, who also a technician for the hangars, had insisted that he take it anyway. The old man intimidated Ditch most of the time without even knowing it, and he was usually scared to death of the freaky, old guy, but he did respect him.

Cocsiker had fought in the Clone Wars and nearly got killed saving a ground transport carrying a load of civilians from certain death at the enemy's hands. In that conflict, he had lost a leg and an arm, both on the same side of his body. He could only afford a prosthetic leg, and not arm, despite the promise of injury insurance offered by the Republic at that time.

Ditch finally found the gear back in the locked storage shed, and Cocsiker had nearly lost his other arm trying to open it.

He had no time to dress into his full pilot uniform, so he jumped in the cockpit with his suit still on, wearing only a helmet. His flight suit was stowed away in the cargo compartment, and his life support gear was placed underneath his feet, against his seat.

His ship was already turn on and the controls set by Cocsiker, so he just took-off and left the third hangar.

His ship had no heavy weapons, such as torpedoes, but the blaster cannons were every bit as functional as a normal X-wing's. His shields were reinforced (most inexperienced pilots tended to takeoff and find the nearest canyon, trying to successfully navigate it and wind up crashing the ship into the canyon wall. With the added shielding, it was less likely for the pilots to wreck the ship. And, of course, Ditch _never_ did _anything _like _that_), giving him extra support for the fight.

His scanners indicated that two bombers were inbound for the campus, the rest still tied up by Sovereign Squadron. He was very impressed on how the unit had managed to keep more than three dozen enemy ships at bay. The Sovereigns were clearly working out well, and this Commander Flarrisk seemed to be a great pilot and leader.

Ditch turned his fighter 100-degrees to starboard, lining his nose up with Welf Center. He kicked the throttle up to full and began powering up his weapons.

Commander Soner's X-wing was taking up an escort position over the campus, with a flight of TIE Interceptors looming just outside of his range. The four enemy craft were obviously waiting for their bomber buddies who lurked over the ruined city. Only three bombers remained, but they could still do a considerable amount of damage to the academy. The three TIE Bombers were escorted by a full squadron of TIE Fighters, who were currently trying to take out the twelve X-wings that proved to be quite an annoyance.

His long-range sensors showed almost two more TIE Interceptor squadrons and twenty-four more TIE Fighters strafing the hills outside town. There was nothing of importance over there, in the woods, except for a few unmanned gun turrets left behind by the Old Republic. But, of course, the warlords did not know that they were unmanned. The old turrets were perhaps the only thing standing in the way of the capital ship in space from entering Gaffeo 2's atmosphere and destroying the entire city with ease.

He knew that soon the TIEs would no longer be fooled and return to fight them, with the ship in orbit following close behind.

He keyed his comm to the third hangar, it being the only military building with a working comlink. "Mr. Cocsiker! Can you make the forest seem as if it is filled with transmissions?"

The old man was quick to reply, despite his age of seventy-nine standard years. "Why would we want to do that?"

"Those Imps are going for the old gun turrets. They think that they're still active, so their destroying them. If the turrets are down, that cap ship will be right above us in no time. We have to convince them that they _are_, in fact, fully operational. Soon, they may catch on and forget about the guns."

"It would be difficult." There was a long pause, and the sound of durasheets being shuffled. "Oh, yes! My notes tell me that there's an old warehouse in the woods that can be used to activate the turrets automatically. They won't aim very well, but it should buy us some time."

Ditch said, "Can you assemble a team and get them out there?"

"Getting a team together won't be a problem. We'll have to send them in transports and those hills are too steep to go up. We'll have to go through the Beneir Pass, which is currently being patrolled by Imperial fighters. If you can get us there, we can take care of the turrets."

"Do it, and I'll make sure you have an escort."

He banked his ship, as to line up with Soner. He flew into campus grounds a few seconds later, and Soner was halfway through his circle maneuver. The other X-wing broke off from its pattern and ducked in below and to the right of Ditch's ship. They continued a patrol around the campus until the transport craft appeared on the city streets, near the hills.

"Commander, I have escort duty. I advise you to hold your current patrol."

"I copy, Necco."

Ditch broke off from the other X-wing, looking back to make sure his droid was ready. Of course, it wasn't. He nodded with understanding as he realized that Mech was not with him, and that Mr. Cocsiker had not equipped his ship with a droid.

Not having a droid meant that he could not calculate jump coordinates and repairs could not be made in-flight. His three years of training had taught him astronavigation, dogfighting maneuvers, basic and intermediate survival skills, hand-to-hand combat, blaster usage . . . and the list went on. One thing that he did not learn was how to fly the ship without an astromech droid tucked in behind him. He imagined that they were saving that advanced skill for seniors taking X/Y/E-wing courses, not teaching it at all, or he had been asleep during that class.

He lowered his ship until he was about ten meters over the transport and matched its speed. They cruised along for a minute or two, then Ditch saw the Beneir Pass, sitting idly there, waiting for them to come. The skies around it looked perfectly clear, and inviting. He was not fooled by his eyes, however, and checked his sensors and scanners. Even though his eyes told him otherwise, four TIE Interceptors were neatly tucked behind the hills, on silent run-mode. He checked their identifications and recognized them as the foursome driven from the academy by Commander Soner.

He grinned slyly as he realized he could take them all down, if he crept up on them from behind. The TIEs were using a standard maneuver, known by almost every starfighter pilot in the galaxy. They would head along the hillsides for two kilometers, turn away from them for four kilometers, turn so they were along the hillsides going the opposite direction for two kilometers, and turn toward the hills. This procedure was repeated until it was necessary to abandon it or their patrol was complete and another group came to relieve them.

If he could catch the fighters going away from the hills, just as they turned that way, he could take them from behind. TIE Interceptors were fast, agile, and dangerous with weapons but their sensors and scanners sucked. Ditch could approach them from behind the hill, pop out at the last moment, and hit them as hard as he could, with only minimal chances of being spotted.

"Necco to Transport. Hold here, while I try to take care of those fighters."

"Acknowledged, X-wing, just be careful."

Ditch locked his S-foils in attack position and hovered slowly over to the side of the hill. He stopped barely ten meters away from the hill and checked his scanners. The TIEs were approaching the hill, already turning to ride alongside it. They strolled past the Beneir Pass and slowed as they reached his position. He felt sweat run down the side of his cheek as he waited in cautious hope that they wouldn't notice him behind the protective hill. One veered off a little too far than was usual, so Ditch clasped his control stick, wrapping his trigger finger around the firing button. With his free left hand, he reached for the throttler, just in case.

At the last moment, the TIE rejoined its group, and they made another turn, just as Ditch had predicted. He hit his ventral thrusters, shooting him up higher and allowing him to see the TIEs on the other side of the hill. He hit his throttler to full in order to catch up with the speedy interceptors and got the first in his sights.

He fired a quad burst, which streaked out and collided with the leftmost fighter. The enemy jerked up, fighting to remain level as his fighter began to slowly descend. In a quick move, and far _too_ quick for any unaware ship, the three other ships rolled all the way around to face him. He slipped to port, dodging three blasts from the enemy.

He dropped low to the ground, too low for most ships. He pulled up as the ground began to rise into the hill, his ship just barely making it over the peak without causing any damage. The three ships aborted their run at him, seeing his trick of coming up below them, and disappeared below the tree line.

Ditch pushed down on the stick, sending him directly at the trees. When he reached the shrouded area, he leveled himself and began searching the area for any and all ships. He found none and decided that it was too risky to fly through the forest.

He turned around just in time to see the fourth fighter, the one that he had hit, making its way over the hill toward the transport. He pursued it all the way back to the city, where the Interceptor past up the transport and headed for the sky.

Then Ditch returned to his escort position above the transport. "Transport, proceed with caution. We have three bogeys up ahead."

"I thought you said you would take care of them?" asked an aggravated comm officer on the hovercraft. "We could be walking into a trap and wouldn't know it."

"That one ran off, limping. The other three went into the trees and disappeared. If I had pursued them, the fourth would have got to you and I would most likely be scattered all over the forest by now."

"What happened to your brilliant plan that led you off after them in the first place?"

"They detected me far before they should have. They're modified Interceptors, that's for sure."

"Can you cover us in the forest?"

"Yes."

Colonel Mek Omar's TIE Interceptor hovered there for a long time, under the cover of trees. Reaper Two had been forced to pull out temporarily, leaving him wingman-less. He really could care less about a wingman, but Reaper Three obviously seemed very concerned over the situation and stated it openly.

"Sir, I'll take your wing. Four can take your other."

"Negative, Three. Stick to your orders and maybe we'll see about that promotion."

His targeting reticle was placed directly over the pass that the hovercraft was most likely going to use. He had no idea whatsoever a transport would be doing in the forest at a time like that, but he had no intention on letting it get past him.

He was hovering in an open area, covered by the branches of nearby trees, about a hundred meters from his entry point. Firing at the transporter from his current location would only ignite trees on fire and burn the forest down with him in it. He planned to hold his fire until the hovercraft came to his entry point and destroy it there. Given the craft's present course, he expected it to arrive there in a few minutes.

The attack was going well, even though most of his bombers had been destroyed. They wouldn't matter, if his fighters destroyed the gun turrets in time for _Tendentious_ to bombard the planet with long-range explosives.

"Sir," called Four, "that X-wing has found our penetration point and has entered the forest. Should we destroy him?"

He shook his head no, even though Four could not see him. "No point in risking death. Reaper Two should be coming back at any moment now. He'll do all the damage to that snubfighter that he can before he's destroyed."

"Yes, sir."

Just as planned, Reaper Two was coming over the hillside at them. The ship was badly damaged and barely flying, but it could still shoot, according to its pilot. The ship traced the tree line until he was positioned directly over the hovercraft, before he took two potshots at it and raised his targeting reticle to the penetration point.

Any second now, the lone X-wing would pop out of the trees in order to protect the transport. Omar was very disappointed when he realized that the X-wing was a no-show. He throttled up to five-percent thrusters and maneuvered his way through the trees toward the entry point.

Then Three spoke vividly. "Sir, I will go to the grave for you."

Ditch smiled as he began to believe he had outfoxed the fighters. Then the TIE fired on the transport again, but didn't cease fire this time. He banged his hand against his flight helmet in frustration and did a jack-in-the-box out of the forest.

He locked on just as the Interceptor pulled up and headed off for the stars again. He aimed his nozzle skyward to follow and halted for a moment. _He left too easy, too soon_. Before the Imps had tricked him and now _he_ planned on doing the tricking. His last trick had been somewhat of a failure, but he felt confident that he could pull it off this time. He opened the glass case that housed the flare ejector and aimed upward until his engines faced the entry point of the other three Interceptors.

He targeted the nearest ship in the forest, but did not lock on, and waited for it to peak its head out of the entry point. He was not disappointed, at all.

He switched over to the flare targeting system as one dark grey, and modified TIE Interceptor came flying out of the forest, sounding off its engines with pride. He smiled with greater enthusiasm as he fired the flare straight at the TIE and hit the solar panel array connector of the ship.

The left wing blew off its hinges, if they could be called hinges, and smashed into a tree below. The Interceptor hung there for a brief second, then spun out of control. The ship burned away from its left side, fires slowly making its way over to the right, and the ship blew up in one very large ball of ignited durasteel. Then the remains smashed into the forest canopy, scorching the trees and nearby land.

Ditch Necco had gotten his first kill, with just a flare.

He slumped against his chair, releasing the stick and other devices for a moment. He felt more relieved than he had ever before, not including his departure from Tsijenna and arrival at Gaffeo 2. He relaxed for a brief second, then saw the second ship fly out of the forest.

When the Interceptor didn't fire, he found himself puzzled. He flipped his snubfighter around to see the Interceptor, followed by another, head off toward the stars. He wrapped his finger around the firing mechanism, and halted. The two ships had spared him, but he had no intention of sparing them. Yet somehow, he could find it in him to pull the trigger. His reason was that it would do no good and that he was stricken with awe. Not one kilometer above him sat a very large ship. It was not the size of a star destroyer, but enough to take on any decent size ship. He hung there, unmoving, with exhaustion and exasperation dwelling in his mind. He would let them go, but maybe another time he would get them.

He left the fighters and the frigate/carrier alone, returning to his mission. "Transport, what's going on down there?"

"You took so long that we've already unloaded our crew at the warehouse. We're one klick northwest of your position. In a few minutes, those turrets will be live and firing."

"Better make it quick," he said, checking his scanners, "because we only have eleven turrets left. Twenty-three have already been destroyed."

"Affirmative. Transport, out."

Having thirty-four gun turrets around cities were common throughout the Core World's capitals. Rarely, did anyone find that many out here on the Edge, but he wasn't complaining. He didn't have time to complain.

He headed northwest until he reached the warehouse, where the transport had indeed unloaded a small team, and escorted them until his comlink chirped again.

"Guns are activating. Ten seconds until they're online, and we're getting out of here."

"I copy, Team One."

The frigate/carrier was targeting specific locations, he could tell by the spinning cannons. Then the cap ship opened fire, sending blasts all over the forest. Checking his scanners, he realized that the gun turrets were disappearing fast. Seven remained after a few seconds, then Team One announced that the guns were activated and would commence firing soon.

The crew had made it back to the transport, and the hovercraft began pulling away from the long-abandoned warehouse. The craft didn't encounter any resistance this time, through the forest, so Ditch considered himself very lucky.

Then the turrets began commencing fire on the capital ship, specifically targeting cannons, but mostly hitting the hull surrounding them. They were, in fact, quite inaccurate, but accuracy was not important when shooting at a ship as large as the one above him, identified as the _Tendentious_. The frigate/carrier bore no Imperial markings, as did almost all Imp ship, and neither did the fighters. It seemed rather strange to him at first, but then he realized that no one cared about the insignia anymore and an Imp ship could be identified by its appearance, without an insignia.

The flight back to the city was short and uneventful. The transport roamed into its shed that it had emerged from with minimal damage and with every last one of its crewman.

Ditch found Commander Soner, still valiantly flying escort for the campus. But on the ground, Ditch spied three neatly destroyed TIE Bombers, all smashed a meter into the slab floor that connected the buildings to one another.

"What the hell!" Ditch looked at Soner's X-wing, having not a single mark on it. He keyed his comlink to Soner's frequency. "What happened, here?"

"Sovereign Squadron was held up with the fighters, and these bombers slipped by them. How did your escort duty go?"

"Mission is accomplished. The gun turrets in the forest are blasting away at the _Tendentious_ and the transport made it back unharmed."

"What about that annoying flight of Interceptors?"

"I got one of them and hurt another. They retreated to their frigate/carrier."

Soner held the silence for a brief moment. "How did it feel, to you know . . ."

"It was my first kill in a starfighter or any ship, for that matter," Ditch stated.

Soner's tone of voice sounded both alarmed and overwhelmed. "So, you mean that you've killed someone in hand-to-hand combat?"

Ditch lowered his head, thinking back to the past. He didn't answer, and didn't feel as if he was obligated to do so.

It seemed as if Soner understood completely. "Never mind; it's unimportant."

The _Tendentious_'s shields absorbed blaster energy for as long as it could, then began to slowly withdraw. The fighters were recalled as soon as the _Tend_ was out of turret range and they left in full-retreat. The turrets only numbered four by the time the enemy force was out of the atmosphere, but it had been enough, just barely.

Despite the withdrawal of the enemy, Ditch knew it as well as anyone that this had not been a victory, but a sad loss. The academy was in ruins, and most of the juniors and seniors were killed in the governor's mansion, and when Sovereign Squadron returned, they numbered only nine. Ditch did not ask about the three, for he knew the answer that he would receive.

Why the Empire would ever feel the need to attack Gaffeo 2, Ditch didn't have any idea whatsoever. Killing a bunch of kids couldn't possibly help them out in the long run and if they wanted the planet for some odd, Imp reason, they would have brought more than a frigate/carrier with half its fighters to take control.

When he requested landing clearance in the third hangar, he was surprised when he didn't hear Mr. Cocsiker's cheery, old voice. Instead he heard a hard-driven, deep, and angry voice that could be no one else than commandant Pikins. "Necco, you're in a world of hurt. Get that ship down here on-the-double."

As Ditch climbed down the ladder against his X-wing, he turned to face the colonel and his posse. To his left stood the lieutenant colonel Rin Dinjin and Commander Erato; to his right stood his aide and three watchful guards armed with BlasTech E-11 blasters.

Soner's X-wing was on the other side of the hangar, temporarily parked there, instead of the guests' hangar where it was previously parked. Cale Soner climbed down his own ladder and was making his way over to Ditch's X-wing when two security guards stopped him in his tracks. Mr. Cocsiker was in between the two groups, escorted by another guard.

Welf Pikins took a step forward to examine the ship briefly and then Necco himself. He looked down at the flight cadet, through vicious violet eyes. He surveyed the pilot's jacket over thoroughly, as though he were looking for something. The man pulled the flap of the jacket and pulled it close to his nose, where he sniffed it. He looked at Ditch's face, with a curious expression.

"Cadet, open your mouth."

He did as he was told, but kept reservations about the whole idea. Pikins examined the inside of his mouth, then his lips. Then the man lowered his head and glowered. "Cadet, you have red lipstick on your lips. When she wears it, Jetti uses a more purple shade of lipstick. Now either you're one of those weird cross-dressers or you're cheating on Jetti."

Soner, in the back, began laughing hysterically.

Pikins eyed him. "Bring Commander Soner to me."

The two guards pushed him along, bringing him up to Pikins's side. Welf examined Soner's lips too, and had an equally startled reaction as he had on Ditch. "What in God's name has this military turned into?" He turned to the aide. "Where's Sovereign Squadron?"

"They landed outside this hangar. I'll go get them for you."

"Just the females, Pecker."

"Yes, sir. That's Puckor, sir."

"I don't really care, just go get them!"

Pikins paced back and forth in anticipation. He eyed Ditch, mouthing ''you're through'' to him before the Sovereign Squadron females were brought before him. Three young pilots were placed in a row in front of the colonel, where he ogled each one of them. Two of them were human and the third was a humanoid named Moruso.

Pikins walked up and sniffed their lips. He got reactions off the two humans, but nothing of interest from Moruso. He smelled Necco and Soner's lips again, and took a moment to piece things together. He grabbed Seria and led her over to Ditch, where their gazes met in a "what's this all about" expression.

Then Pikins grabbed the other human, which Ditch only now looked at, and tossed her to Soner, who caught her in his arms. Ditch's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the girl from the party at the lieutenant governor's mansion. "Is there a reason for this?" Ditch asked.

Pikins nodded grimly. "Ditch, you're cutoff and you're my personal slave until you leave Barnootsna. Soner, I don't even _want _to know what your doing with that girl half you age, so get out of my sight."

Cale squinted. "I'm twenty-five and she's twenty-one. She hasn't been half my age since I was eight."

Pikins waved a hand, and the couple walked off together. Then he eyed Seria, a little too closely. "You're a smart and beautiful, young girl, so don't fall for an idiot like Ditch. He's a loser, he's broke, he's a troublemaker, and he's flat out _stupid_ for not going for my Jetti. Also remember that he is a year younger than you."

She shrugged indecisively. "Well, we'll see what happens."

Pikins huffed and walked off, followed by his trail of junior officers.

Ditch and Seria began walking off, without saying anything, when the humanoid Moruso made her way over to them. "Lieutenant Moruso, thanks for that save up there."

"Anytime, Seria. I wanted to tell you that you did a marvelous performance up there and I wanted to congratulate you on your two kills. They did not come easily."

She nodded graciously. "Thank you, Yacki. There's going to be a victory celebration tonight at Kankof's Den, and I trust that you'll be there?"

"Yes, my dear. I will attend with pleasure."

Then the strange-looking humanoid walked off toward the rest of Sovereign Squadron, leaving Ditch and Seria alone.

"Are juniors allowed at the celebration?"

"Anyone on campus is welcome to come. Commander Soner's going to, he has to since he got three kills, the most today."

"Ah, so the drinks are on him."

"Yes, that's right."

Ditch nodded back to Yacki Moruso. "I've never seen her species before. What world is she from?"

Seria smiled at her new friend, who waved at her. "She's a Skinsariii, from Skinar. They're really friendly, as long as you're very formal with them."

"I'm sorry about the loss of three of your squadmates."

The walked through the large opening that served as ship access for the hangar and Ditch shielded his eyes with his hand as the morning sun arced its way over the horizon, dawning a new day.

She nodded. "Me too. They were all in the same flight, doing some maneuver that didn't work out and got them killed. I didn't really know them, but I've heard good things about them." She saw Flarrisk waving her over to him. "Oh, I have to go. I'll see you at the victory celebration."

_Victory_ celebration? It seemed so weird that this could be considered a victory to anyone, so having a celebration seemed really strange.

Another thing that he found strange was Pikins's attitude toward him. Welf had been so busy scolding him, that he didn't even congratulate him on escorting the transport to the warehouse. Also, Pikins had only scolded him on the Jetti-situation and not on disobeying direct orders and taking an X-wing Trainer out of third hangar and leaving his turret duty. Manning the turret was quite tedious, especially not being able to hit the enemy, which stayed well out of range.

"Yeah, I'll see you there."


End file.
